The Maid Turns Clinical!
by CornflowerBlue
Summary: AU. Misaki is only one of the 10% female population in Seika Medical Institute, and is also the president of 2nd Year Class A. At night, she works as the top prostitute in the red light district. With unexpected encounters, sparks ignite. Updated!
1. Prologue

**Hello, everyone! I've revisited this story and edited grammatical and typographical what-nots in each chapter. Mostly, I did it for my own satisfaction, but of course, I did it to prevent you readers from twinge-ing (And I know from experience-I twinge a lot when I see errors...just my own thing. **

**Before you plow further, I have to warn my dear readers that I have this bad habit of leaving my fics un-updated for quite a while. But that doesn't mean I won't finish it at all. So, before you ask, ****_yes, I do intend to finish this however, the updates may take a while_**** since I am quite busy with school. I am quite slow when writing chapters, too, so there. Don't say I didn't warn you!**

**I accept rants, so long as they make sense and are connected as a review to the story. Criticisms are accepted; I am but a human after all and make mistakes, too. Anyways, I love reviews...in fact, I sort of thrive in them, especially when they're long and wordy. It's a way for me to know my readers as well. ;)**

**Disclaimer: The amazing Kaichou wa Maid-sama belongs to Fujiwara Hiro**

* * *

**The Maid Turns Clinical!**

**Prologue**

_The lacey skirt hiked up her thighs when he cupped her hips, lifting her against him. His mouth trailed slowly down her neck, nipping and leaving his mark as he went further. The rumble on her throat—a cross between a moan and a whimper—excited him. Feverish, he ripped her blouse open, revealing twin buds of hardened nipples protruding through the thin undershirt she wore._

_"Tiny," he murmured as he thumbed each protrusion simultaneously, and her already red face went a darker shade._

_"You—!" but stopped short of a gasp when his mouth—his warm mouth—swooped down over her left breast. Her hands gripped his back for support as an onslaught of unwanted pleasure swept through her. When he suckled, drawing the combined taste of clean fabric and __**her**__, she threw her head up and bit back the scream which fought to climb out of her. Her breaths came fast and hard, a mad synchrony with his equally harsh breaths._

_As his attentions went to her other breast, her thoughts went fuzzy—she briefly forgot they were in a cold alley, that her back was pressed violently against concrete. She forgot that the only reason she was here was because she was running away and had no choice; that she wanted to be the master of her own fate, and circumstances can't make her do something she didn't want to do._

_She didn't want this—this was her very last thought before the desire exploded in her._

_Takumi Usui peered into her face—dazed eyes and face flushed with desire. He gripped her harder against him; he wanted to be inside her now. If this were any other prostitute, he would have fucked her senseless against the wall and tucked a bill neatly between her breasts. But this one was different; after all, her reasons for doing this were different from all others, twisted as they are._

**_Salvation_**_, he thought grimly and looked at her face, guilty of the pleasure she didn't want to feel. _

**_He will make her feel it_**,_ he promised. _**_He will make her remember that she wanted him to be ultimately her first._**

_"Look at me." When she did, she realized how beautiful his eyes were; for a fleeting moment, she wished it was a little brighter so she could clearly see the emerald quality of those irises._

_"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, keeping desire in check with that very thin wire of control. Her round brown eyes were already sleepy with desire but he asked nonetheless; he wanted her to realize her mistake, her powerlessness in such a situation._

_She chuckled bitterly, somehow regaining control of herself. "You're seriously asking a honker for a honk? Is that a habit of yours?"_

_"No," he admitted. "You must be special, Misa-chan."_

_She bit her lower lip. He knew her nickname; he must have heard that from the guys running after her. The blasted pimp—when he heard she was a virgin—tried to sell her off to a rich middle-aged client with a fetish for popping cherries. She took one look at the man's greedy hands and lewd eyes then turned tail. Unfortunately, the bastard had his bodyguards chasing her—how in the world did they even get her name? Did it even matter?_

_Seeing the wheels in her head turn, Usui grinded his hip against her and other thoughts went fuzzy again. _**_Think! Control yourself! Remember why you're doing this!_**

_He smiled. "Well, Misa-chan, why are you doing this?"_

**_Did I actually say that out loud? _**_He licked the side of her neck and bit not too gently the base of her neck. Electric shots of desire made her shiver but she managed to gasp in reply. "I alre-ready told you w-why!"_

_"You expect me to believe," he murmured softly as he trailed his fingers down to her pelvis, found the wetness, and nudged experimentally on the tender skin. When he pressed against that little nub, she moaned and he continued. "You expect me to believe that you're doing this because you want your first time to be someone you chose, instead of someone who is buying you?"_

_Gritting her teeth, she nodded. At that, he viciously plunged his fingers into her incredibly tight and wet orifice; when she actually screamed, he trapped her scream with his mouth. He pulled and pushed his way into her relentlessly, making sure that each stroke went in and touched the delicate nub at the same time. He was aware of her peaking and coming, her fluids coating his fingers, dripping down to the wrist as she convulsed against him each time. She scratched his back, both in pleasure and agony, almost tearing his shirt. He swallowed all her screams until she was hoarse. Her thighs were almost limp against his torso but he supported them and crushed her further against the wall. She must be aching, but he hardly cared._

_When he stopped, his own member was throbbing almost painfully in his pants but he tried not to heed it. Both their breathings were harsh._

_"Was that what you wanted?" he asked._

_"You haven't really fucked me yet," she panted hoarsely._

_"I know."_

_"Do it."_

_Usui looked at her, really looked at her. Her face was covered with sweat and she smelled exactly of both salt and sex. But the expression on her eyes, though tired, was both challenging and furious. He shook his head in amazement; here they were, in a seedy alley, her legs wrapped around him, his fingers still deep into her, and she still had it in her to glare at him as though she had the upper hand. "You could do this—with someone special, Misa." He dropped the "-chan" altogether and pulled out his fingers agonizingly slow, eliciting another shudder from her; he licked the wetness which oozed of her sex up to the base of his wrist. "That's why I was hesitant."_

_Helplessly, Misaki raised her hands briefly and chuckled. "This doesn't look hesitant."_

_"That's why I said 'was'. I wanted to scare you at first, see how you would react. Now I see you really are serious about this."_

_She didn't say anything, couldn't. Her eyes ached and tears threatened to spill out. But she wouldn't let this man—this stranger—see her cry._

_"Before I do this, tell me first—why me," he asked._

_Clearing her throat, she answered. "It was random."_

_"Bullshit. Why me?"_

_She looked away. "You—you seemed trustworthy."_

_"Bullshit again. You don't know me, Misa. I could be a rapist, or a serial killer for all you know. Why me?"_

_Misaki gulped. He continued, "When you were running earlier, your eyes widened when you saw me, as though you knew me from somewhere. And then you pulled me with you in the chase and dragged me in this alley."_

_She closed her eyes. She suddenly realized how uncomfortable her position was and she eased herself by leaning in to embrace him, her head hanging over his shoulder. After everything, shame should no longer be an issue to her. "I—saw you before…you were always in the park. I had a sideline there before, selling cotton candy."_

_Vaguely, he remembered a cotton candy stand in the park but didn't remember the woman selling there. And frowned. "I don't remember you."_

_"That's natural—it was a short sideline—around 3 days or so. I was just filling in—there was a kid there who got lost. He was crying. I was about to go to help when you approached him and helped him find his mommy." Her eyes softened at the memory. "I just thought you might be a nice person, even though you always seemed bored and lonely."_

_He grinned. "Funny. It's the first time I've been described as lonely by anyone."_

_Her eyes went back to meet his. "Aren't you?"_

_They were silent. Gently, he let her down from her position yet her arms remained wound around his neck for support._

_"Hey! Don't back out on me!" she said furiously._

_"I'm not. But if I am going to be the first to fuck you, don't you want it to be a little more special? It's bad enough that I'm a complete stranger."_

_He covered her with the coat he had taken off earlier and carried her over his shoulder as though she were dead weight._

_"H-hey! Where are you bringing me?"_

_"In a hotel."_

_"But they might find me—"_

_"I'm bringing you to a different hotel—but we'll still do it, I promise. The first time should be a better memory than a dim alley."_

_She huffed. "Well. You're pretty old-fashioned, aren't you?"_

_He ignored the comment. "What's your real name?"_

_"Misaki. Just—just Misaki."_

_He stared, then shook his head. "Fine then. I'm Usui. Just Usui. And when I fuck you like hell, I want you to scream out my name over and over. Do you understand?"_

_The tone of his voice made her remember the sensation of fingers plugged deep inside her; she shuddered again, knowing she would be doing just _that_. "Y-yes."_

_"Good," and he walked off and hailed a cab. When they were secure at the back of the ride, he ordered the driver to bring them to The Diamond Hotel._

**_Five-star_**_, she realized dimly. Whoever this man was, he's very rich. _

_"Usui?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Thank you."_

_He shrugged, not really understanding why she was thanking him in the first place. Nevertheless, he answered. "No problem"_

* * *

That happened half a year ago, mused Usui Takumi as he read the morning papers. Truth be told, it was not habitual for him to buy a fuck; most women would gladly spread their legs wide for him to ravish. Nevertheless, she was his last fuck in six months.

_Isn't "made love" the better term? _He mused, wondering why he was pondering over semantics. Regardless of what was, he had been on a sabbatical since then. A whole year ago, he dropped out from medical school; in anger and disillusion, he wasted money on casinos and women. Somehow that one encounter enacted a chain reaction of change in him; needless to say, he was a far cry from who he was then to who he is now.

Funny how one night with a strange woman changed his life.

Too bad he never saw her again.

_And what would you have done if you see her again?_

He shrugged to himself and drank the coffee he personally brewed in three long gulps. He stretched his sinewy arms and finally stood up. Today, class starts again. Today, he returns to the world of medicine, and this time, there won't be any stopping. This time, he will succeed.

"Seika Medical School," he murmured satisfactorily to himself as he slung his black backpack. "You better be ready for me."

* * *

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**Just type down below and review!**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter Edited!

Finally! I update! Whew, and it took me quite a [long] while, too. I was so busy with so many stuff the past few months, and in between busy moments, I could not pull an inspiring thought out of my head to write. It's pretty much useless for me to write anyways when I'm not into it, so... here we are! Again, finally.

Thanks to all those previous reviews! Really encouraging...I'm not exactly a review whore but who doesn't enjoy a good review? I think I replied to some of them, too, and I distinctly remember promising one that I would upload before January ends...which obviously ended up a failure since it's already April now. Sorry bout that. Anyways...thank you. To everyone.

**Disclaimer:** Maid-sama! characters and fictional schools do not belong to me, and though I can somewhat stake a claim to this AU, that's only as far as I dare go.

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**The Maid Turns Clinical!**

**Chapter 1: Stupid Fate**

_Misaki woke up abruptly to the sound of breaking dishes and shouting. Briefly, she wondered if her jobless father had just arrived home after gambling, losing, and drinking all night. It was a cycle she could not really comprehend but it always seemed to happen. But tonight seemed different; usually, the angry voice would be their father's alone. Tonight, she heard the return of a spiteful voice she recognized dimly as her mother's. It was a tone she had never heard before from that gentle woman. It was a tone she never wished to hear again._

_But the next sounds chilled her far more than any sound she heard prior to that; later on, she realized that the sharp sound was precisely that of a hand hitting a face—her mother's face, she realized. Then there was a whimper and a cry of pain. Immediately, she jumped out of the bed and ran down the stairs as quick as her short and slender legs could carry her._

_On the floor was her mother, a bruise the shape of heavy fingers spreading on the delicate flesh of her face. His face was contorted in sick rage; eyes bloodshot from too much alcohol in his system. One hand had held his wife's head by the hair. The white skirt she recently brought with Misaki from a surplus store had been lifted and torn off; he kneeled above her body, legs spread, zipper down—and spilling out—_

_Her mouth widened to a silent scream._

* * *

**Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.**

Her whole body tensed; for a moment, her throat remained constricted, preventing even the inward movement of oxygen through those parted lips. Her eyes were glassy, sleep paralysis still apparent from the stiffness of her body. Then, as the sound of rain registered in her ears, as the familiarity of the small room kicked in, her body relaxed into the futon, and a soft, soft sigh passed finally from her mouth.

"Tired," Misaki murmured to no one in particular. Of course, she was always tired, what with her endless preoccupations with family, advanced studying and…work. She allowed the tightly bottled contempt to wash her for a moment and she ground her teeth; this itself lasted only for a few seconds before the tension was released with a sigh. When she sat up, her mindset was carefully controlled once again, the muddy emotions filed away under lock and key. And the smile she allowed herself came tight and determined. _Okay! Just another day._

"_Onee-chan_." The small sleepy voice startled her for a moment and she looked up to see her younger sister standing on her doorway.

"Suzuna…up early?"

The girl shrugged. "I need to finish my assignment…I was going to study while I wait for you to arrive but I guess I fell asleep."

The words immediately triggered guilt and shame in Misaki. In spite of this, her facial expression remained calm. "Hmm…you do know that I always have work…you really don't need to wait for me to come home. And I can let myself in anyways…"

Another shrug. And a yawn. "Ma was just asking for you yesterday…you haven't been visiting much lately."

Another guilty pang, but this was far worse than the earlier so her face fell. "Oh…was she—"

"She's fine. She's just worried about you, 's all. So I told her you've been busy, especially since your class is starting this week. She understands...but I wish you could visit her so you can tell her yourself." Suzuna gave her a small smile before turning away. "I'll finish homework, then we can have breakfast together."

Misaki shook her head. She made her poor mother…and even Suzuna worry again. But she could not help it. Because vacation was coming to an end, she gave efforts to double her clientele, and that meant putting in extra hours.

_Extra hours, _she mused._ Funny, I seem to be thinking of my work as real work when all I really do is spread my legs and…_

The memory of sweaty fingers and stale hot breaths against her skin, of toys and fleshy appendages entering and sliding into her, revolted. Worst of all, she had to pretend to enjoy it. Prostitution_. _The very word disgusted her. More liberal-minded women would have argued that prostitution was a manifesto of feminism. Such arguments, to Misaki, were only as relevant as cow manure; to her, it only showed the powerlessness of a female breadwinner against poverty. After all, other than selling organs, isn't it always the last resort to fight off starvation?

Was it really just 6 months since she started? Somehow, it already felt like years to her. At that time, Misaki was already at the middle of her second semester as a first year medical student; somehow, she juggled 2 odd jobs at the same time with her studying. Most jobs involved construction work and waitressing; sometimes she dabbled at baby-sitting, but it was mostly Suzuna who did that. Thankfully, both she and her sister had been granted full scholarships in their respective schools; all that was needed was the maintenance of their positions. With a schedule so busy, she would count herself lucky on days when she had three hours of sleep. And yet, just when she thought their finances were getting stable again, their dear mother who was suffering from a long-standing heart condition collapsed…

"_Onee-chan_?"

"Hmm?"

"You're not eating."

Misaki blinked and grabbed the glass of water to refresh her parched throat. She didn't even realize that food had already been set for her. She picked her chopsticks, murmured her thanks…and scrunched her nose when she picked the bowl.

"This…already smells a bit weird," commented Misaki with a sniff; with an experimental spoonful, she added thoughtfully, "already tastes a bit weird, too. How old is this curry? Not that I'm complaining." She grinned and helped herself to more rice when she quickly finished a bowl.

"This is yesterday morning's leftovers, which makes this just a day old. And we had weirder," said Suzuna nonchalantly. "But maybe we should buy a refrigerator…something small and secondhand is okay, just to store food."

"What we need is one of those energy-savers…but we'll think about it," she said softly. "Maybe when Mother gets out of the hospital."

The younger girl sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Well, I could join another raffle…I am pretty lucky with those."

Misaki grinned. The first time Suzuna joined a TV raffle, she won a cellphone. The second time was a small raffle in their neighborhood and she won a box of dried beef jerky; that was two months ago and there were still some remaining from that which they consumed carefully. "If you win another time, I'll bow down to you."

"Oh, your class starts today, right?"

"Yeah. Kind of a bummer, actually since our school always starts ahead of other med schools…hope it also means our education is ahead."

"It isn't?"

"Hmm, in standard, I guess Seika is above average; with a board exam passing rate of 88%, it's not the best, but it is acceptable, considering the volume of graduates they produce a year. The fact that Seika also has its own adjunct private hospital with out-patient service is an advantage to the students since we won't need to look for other hospitals to finish our internships. Though the curriculum is traditionally theoretical and system-based, they're starting to add a problem-based style which will be helpful once we get into the wards."

"You sound like a brochure." The glare sent towards the girl's way was completely ignored. "Then again, I really have no idea what you're talking about. And I guess those are the pros; I've yet to hear your cons…but I think I already know that."

As though Misaki suddenly remembered it, she set her empty bowl angrily on the table. "The boys! Of course it's the boys!"

Suzuna rolled her eyes and moved to clear the table, muttering a "here we go again."

"Stupid, chauvinistic pigs, that they are! You have no idea how I had to put up with all of their antics…swaggering in the hallways like high school punks—this is college! Aren't they too old for that kind of stuff? Just because the school's been pumping them up with this bullshit crap about "the glories of men entering the most honourable of vocations"—"

The younger girl sighed. "Well, that is because it's an all-male institution—"

"Used to be!" Misaki said viciously. "They've been co-ed for two years now! And yet the traditional bullshit's still there! It's not really helping that the female populace is outnumbered, ten to one!"

"Well, I did tell you not to choose Seika…and yet you did. You couldn't have not foreseen all that trouble," pointed out Suzuna.

"But…it's cheaper there…and I got a nice scholarship to back me up too—"

"You also received a scholarship grant in—what's that other school again…?"

"Miyabigaoka."

"Yes. A university with a board exam passing rate of 98%. They also have their own hospital, with bigger wards."

Misaki looked away. "Well, I just thought the school was too classy…too many rich peeps with too much time in their hands. No way."

"So that qualifies the gender discriminating Seika as a much better med school?"

"No," she glared at her younger sister's back as she washed the dishes. With a sigh, she surrendered her chopsticks over her bowl and explained. "Miyabigaoka…It's too far. I'd have to stay in a boarding house, else suffer the tedious travelling time," she sighed again. "Seika…is closer. And I don't really believe that the medical school you come from counts too much. In the end, we all have to work hard and study hard, and then see if it all pays off in the real hospital setting."

The younger girl gave her that usual passive look and spoke. "You hate men but you chose to enrol in a medical academe which favours men. You shouldn't complain."

"I'm not exactly complaining—" gasped Misaki indignantly.

"It's either you want to prove something or…" Suzuna merely shrugged, leaving with the sentence hanging in the air and yet the older sister understood.

_It's either you want to prove something or…you're just a masochist._

With that Misaki was left to her thoughts. As she cleared the dishes, that dream speaking of long ago flashed in the back of her mind, reminding her why she learned to hate men.

Not only did she enrol in a sexist school—she turned into someone who sold sex to men as well. And she hated earning money that way, hated the hands which fondled her, the sweaty bodies, the horrid grunts, the horrible pretences.

_And yet, wasn't that one night—the first night you gave yourself away? You did not hate that at all. In fact, would you not pretend that each customer sported that blonde spiky hair, pretend that those perverted eyes were actually intense emerald green vortices? Did you not imagine each time that it was he who touched you, who fondled you, who fucked you—_

Misaki gripped the edge of the sink angrily. She could not disagree with that berating voice in her head when it was all true. Indeed, she often used the memories of that night to make her job easier. Wasn't it that the reason why she was able to rise quickly in the ranks within just a few months? She was even one of the favourites now; the price on her body was high enough that only the privileged and the elites could afford her. Thankfully, the rich and the sleazy were often one and the same in her business. She resumed washing the dishes, not noticing that she had been lathering an already clean spot over and over again.

_Masochist, huh…I guess I am…and you don't know half of it at all._

* * *

Because it gave her legs the exercise they craved, Misaki rode a bike to school. She didn't care that most of her classmates rode cars; in her mind, it was a cheaper and better way to travel. One problem, though, was the fact that her one-piece pencil-cut uniform was not fit for bicycling. As amends, she innovatively sewed zippers where the slit was supposed to be; that way, she could manipulate the slit as high or as low as required.

As she went her way tirelessly uphill, she saw the familiar outline of bright yellow pigtails. "Good morning, Sakura-chan!"

"Misaki! How was your summer vacation?"

"Non-existent," she grinned in response.

Sakura puffed her rosy cheeks. "You've lost weight again, haven't you?"

Misaki simply shrugged in response. "So…why don't you give me updates while we walk?"

"Well…the mail sent to our site's forum confirmed the arrival of a new student."

"Really? Well, that's interesting," and it really was. There were a lot of barriers when it came to transferring schools, especially when it concerned medical education; usually, it required the student to begin from scratch—first year. "She must have a lot of connections to pull this off then."

"Not a she—a he! And he's really handsome, or so I was told—got foreign blood, probably."

_And another stupid guy,_ groaned Misaki inwardly._ Wonderful._

"And not just connections, I think," said Sakura excitedly. "Rumour has it that he is really smart and—"

"Yeah. So smart that he transferred schools. Huh. Probably dropped courses in his previous school once he realized he's failing." Misaki interrupted in irritation. If there was something she hated as much as men, it was people who wasted their money and resources just because they can afford to.

Sakura recognized the dismissal, shrugged and continued perkily as they entered the school gates. "And Shizuko started dating again."

"Really?" exclaimed Misaki. Kaga Shizuko, their quiet and bookish friend, had been through a bad break-up last year. "And?"

"Well, from what Shizuko told me, she met the guy during her home trip from Hawaii—plane seatmate and all, then—"

"WHAT?" This piece of information truly surprised Misaki. "Shizuko—our extremely rational, no-nonsense Shizuko—talked to a complete stranger, no less another plane passenger?"

"Yes, yes, and did you really have to repeat everything I—"

"Girls, if you are going to gossip about someone, I suggest discretion," The exasperated voice was from none other the bespectacled Shizuko who had a handbook tucked to her side.

"Ooh! As expected, a book on our first day!" said Sakura, ignoring the earlier comment. "_Guyton _(1), pocket guide?"

"Totally off. _Dialogues of Plato. _Now, I will stop you before you give any half-baked story to Misaki—I will tell both of you later after all." Sakura tittered excitedly; Shizuko continued, this time looking at the other girl. "Misaki, our adviser was looking for you."

"Oh, right. I wonder what it's about?" she wondered aloud before shaking her head. "I better go ahead—have to park the bike anyways. See you later!"

* * *

It has been established fact that Dr. Maria Miyazono, who had topped the ENT board exams two years ago, is already considered one of the best in her field, known especially for successfully conducting many sensitive nose and throat surgeries. Not just a surgeon but a researcher as well; since she stepped into residency and finally became a consultant, the woman had already accumulated a dozen case studies, documenting rare cases she had encountered and conducting randomized controlled trials. Just a month ago, Misaki read one of doctor's cohort studies published in the British Medical Journal which compared different palliative treatments for terminal nasopharyngeal cancer patients. What Misaki admired most about her was her humble beginnings; though the details were obscure, she heard that Dr. Miyazono came from a poor family also until she was sponsored by a rich relative. She reached her present standing through hard work. And she was young—somewhere between late twenties to early thirties.

_Youth, profession, beauty. _Obviously, Misaki idolized her and it was little wonder that she twisted her fingers behind her back when the woman smiled at her and casually waved at her to take a seat. As she did so, Dr. Miyazono leaned back in her chair and put her fingertips together.

"You're early…good. The schedule hasn't yet been released in our website but I have a hardcopy of it here—" she gestured towards the brown envelope on the table. "Dr. Sakurai—he's your first class, Clinical Anatomy II—will be late due to emergency surgery. He will be late for an hour but he called earlier to give reading assignments. It's also in the envelope. I'm telling you, though—warn your classmates to be on their best behaviour when he arrives. If you are good boys and girls, he might rethink giving you a surprise examination."

Misaki gasped, forgetting her nervousness. "Surprise exam? But we weren't given reading assignments during the summer!"

"Don't worry about that, Miss Ayuzawa," grinned the doctor, propping her chin on one hand. "Questions are mostly review on last year's Anatomy course—to evaluate your knowledge. Of course, it is still recorded so you should be up on your feet."

Misaki nodded slowly and, as though she suddenly remembered something, spoke tentatively. "Um, Doctor…should I relay this information first to Mr. Yuuri? He is after all the class president…" she trailed when Dr. Miyazono tipped her head with a frown.

"I see. You were not informed. Mr. Yuuri had dropped out over the summer…in fact—and I'm sure you already know this—a third of the student body dropped out, which is expected rate for freshmen, and as a result, you've been reduced to two classes. With that, it should be obvious that class presidents are valuable in relaying information. The supposed class president for Section II-B has already been appointed, as you are, by the faculty body."

At the stunned expression on Misaki's face, Dr. Miyazono smiled. "You shouldn't be surprised. In the evaluations, you were commended by several members of the faculty for displaying initiative and remarkable leadership skills. Your academic performance is sterling, with you achieving the highest GWA for this batch, earning a full scholarship. During last year's inter-medical school sports festival, you also lead the women's volleyball team which earned a silver medal; and you won a gold in the judo competition featured then as well. See, now I am embarrassing you." She grinned when she noticed the furiously blushing Misaki picking at the hem of her uniform. "You deserve praise, Misaki-san…can I call you that?" When she dumbly nodded, the doctor continued. "You are a well-rounded individual succeeding both in academics and non-academics, and I can tell you are far from being socially inept. With these recommendations, I am sure you will do well as class president."

"I—I will do my best, Doctor!" exclaimed Misaki, the flush on her face deepening at the idea that her favorite doctor is keeping track of her records as well.

"I expect you to. And if you have any problems, just approach me, all right?" The young surgeon looked up at the wall clock and murmured. "Looks like it's almost time for class. Here's the envelope and—oh, you have been informed of the transferee, Miss Ayuzawa?—good." She said when Misaki confirmed with a yes. "Introduce yourself as the class president, all right? Since you are no longer high school students, the professors will not bother to introduce new classmates to the class—you will be in charge of that. I will leave him in your hands."

"Yes, doctor! I will be taking my leave now," she stood up and, with another flush, Misaki bowed. "Thank you for the opportunity to be a class president! I will not let you down!" With that, she left.

Maria Miyazono smiled to herself. "Opportunity, huh? But it's a very busy job and more of a hassle if you ask me." The nineteen year-old reminded Miyazono of herself when she was still a medical student: determined and enthusiastic. She will look forward to observing her. With a sigh, she opened her drawer to get her daily planner and groaned, pulling out a folder. She had forgotten to give the transferee's basic file to Misaki. Sifting through her planner, she realized that she wasn't able to fit touring Usui in at all.

_Well, I just can't cancel my patient's appointment for a tour, not that he needs one but still..._she sighed again, irritated with this slight confusion in schedules.

Someone knocked on the door before opening it and peering inside. "Yes, doctor? You called for me earlier?"

"Ah, Mr. Yukimura—this will be short. I'll just brief you on your duties this morning as Class II-B's president. You've been informed that Miss Ayuzawa will be Class II-A's president?—good. Now, before I forget, please give this folder to her after this meeting…"

* * *

_I am the new class president._

Misaki grinned toothily to herself as she walked, almost bouncily, along the corridors. With her as the new president and representative, she would be able to push many changes in the class. And maybe, in the future, if she would be granted a position in the student council, she would be able to enact more changes in the university itself.

_More on that later. Focus on now…class president…_

She reached her class room and slid the door panel open. Chattering male voices assaulted her ears; unbuttoned uniforms revealing exposed undershirts greeted her vision; pornographic material and sports magazines added insult to injury. Other seemingly quiet boys had their laptops open and were doing no better— porn, mmoRPGs, cars. The great minority—the girls—were divided; some sat quietly in their respective seats (in Shizuko's case, reading her Plato) while others spent their time being harassed (Sakura included) by the guys on one side of the classroom. The earlier pleasure was immediately replaced by irritation. She went to the podium and attempted to turn on the microphone; when it did not work, she cleared her throat (mentally, she decided she would call a technician over to fix the problem) and called attention to herself.

_Happy time and patting-on-the-back over. The real deal starts now._

"Everyone, please settle down for announcements," she said in a loud and clear voice. Most of the students settled down except for the little group on the side which was still harassing Sakura. Misaki gritted her teeth, calling for patience and calling their names aloud. When they ignored her, she approached them. "Shirakawa, Sarashina, Kurosaki. Would you three mind your primitive ways of courtship—if it could be called that? Ganging up on a girl—is that how a respectable man entering the medical profession should act? Have you no notion of clauses on sexual harassment? Sakura—go back to your seat."

"Hey, we're not done with you yet—" As Kurosaki reached for Sakura's shoulder, he felt a pressure on the side of his head which was succeeded by a slam on the forehead. Misaki had reached the trio and had somehow managed to bang their heads together. Sakura bade her silent thanks and returned to her chair.

"Apparently, you were not listening to me. Get back to your chairs," said Misaki. She turned and walked down the aisle to return to the front.

Someone heard a gasp as Ayuzawa was roughly turned and yanked back by the collar. "Hey—fuckin' smarty pants. Just who the fuck do you think you—aaaaah!" In a flash, Shirakawa was gripped by the front and thrown in a backward flip to the front.

Straightening her uniform, Misaki gave a challenging glare at Sarashina who shrunk away at the back before continuing her procession to the front; she merely sidestepped on the recovering Shirakawa who took residence with his buddies in the back. Finally behind the teacher's desk again, she flattened her palms on the wood, her eyes intent on her subdued audience.

"For those who are not yet acquainted with me—that is understandable. Due to the high freshman mortality rate, the original four first-year sections had been reshuffled once we entered this year and reduced to only two: Class II-A and II-B. We comprise the former. So whether or not you know me already, allow me the pleasure of introducing myself. I am Ayukawa Misaki. Remember that as I will be class president from here on."

There was a murmur amongst the class. Shirakawa and his group made shouts of protests from their position.

"Hey—wasn't it supposed to be Yuuri? Did you usurp his position, eh, you power-hungry—"

"Why not Yuuri? He used to be class pres!"

"Mr. Yuuri had already withdrawn his enrolment from this establishment; and I have been appointed next class president by the faculty members themselves," she said, drowning the protests at the back with the clarity of her voice. "If there are any objections as to this decision, any comments with sound reasoning regarding why I am not qualified for this position, raise your hand and voice it now," Three hands at the back, as well as two from the middle and front, went up. She smiled with deadly serenity. "Remember—I want sound reasoning here for objections...which excludes male superiority crap. Be prepared to risk embarrassment if you present irrational retorts." The hands slowly dwindled to none.

_Good. _

"All right. Since there are no objections, I will first give some announcements regarding the schedules and this morning's class. Then, perhaps, we can proceed to election of officers, and then set a few rules…"

* * *

Takumi Usui walked through the quiet halls; the classes were probably starting already. Which was well enough for him as this lessened the clamour which would surely result from his appearance. He was used to such attention since he had it ever since he studied in Japan and was used to ignoring it. Naturally, it was exasperating; surely there were plenty of other half-British, half-Japanese folks loitering about. _Not as good-looking, probably, _he smirked to himself at this small narcissism which he shrugged away; he had always been aware of his looks, known it enough to accept it and move on.

His phone vibrated in his pocket; he checked it to find a message from Maria Miyazono apologizing for not being able to give him the tour. He skimmed through the usual niceties until he reached this line.

…_but I am sure that the class president will be helping you in that area and all others._

He raised a brow at that. Takumi was no longer a child after all and can well tour himself. _She's mocking me, as usual, _he thought with a shrug._ The grounds aren't big enough to be lost in._

He stopped by the stairs, staring up at the sky through a narrow slit in the wall. It was bright and cloudy outside. He frowned, his mind suddenly pulled back to her—that woman from six months ago; for the second time that day, he thought of her and for the second time, he wondered why he did so. Yet again, the same conclusion returned: that meeting changed his life somehow—she was the catalyst.

Was it fate? He wondered idly as he resumed his walk up the stairs reaching the desired corridor. _Stupid. People create their own fates. Like I did in the past. Like she did to fill her purpose. Like I am doing now. Just like the rest of the world is choosing its own fate._

_But what of one fate overlapping with another's?_ He left this unanswered. Philosophical dwellings would come later.

He looked up at the sign—Class II-A. The panel slid open and a guy, a full foot shorter than him, emerged from the room and almost bumped into him. "Oh, sorry—hey! You must be the transferee! Good timing. I just delivered your file to your class president."

Takumi frowned. "File?"

He smiled apologetically. "Ah, no worries. Those are just basic info—you're Usui Takumi, right? I sneaked a look in the file, my name's Yukimura Shou—"

But he could no longer hear him. Sound was muted, the rest of the world at seemingly complete standstill. Without thinking, he nudged Yukimura out of the way; apologies could come later but he had to be sure—

White uniform. _Medical student._ Standing behind the teacher's desk looking at in the act of browsing the contents of a folder in her hands. She should be unfamiliar. And yet she is…familiar: wavy hair with that unruly haircut swept up behind one ear, a small pointed nose, high cheekbones, pointy chin…

He watched her stiffen, watched as the folder fell from her suddenly frozen fingers. Thankfully, it fell without a mess on the table—yet mess or not hardly mattered. Not to either of them.

_But what of one fate overlapping with another's?_

He finally found the answer.

_Destiny._

Just as he thought of this, a desire to refute it came instantly. As though sensing the thought—sensing him—her head swivelled towards the door, wavy hair flying with the movement, full mouth agape, cheeks flushed and—

Her amber eyes, wide with surprise, met with his equally surprised emerald ones.

No, he can't refute with destiny…not when she's looking him in the face.

* * *

**NOTE:**

**(1) Guyton and Hall's Medical Physiology (shortened to simply "Guyton") is one of the bibles used in studying basic sciences in medicine. It has a "baby" version which could be considered as the abridged version of the bigger book.**

**Reviews are very much appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 2

I really should refrain from promising fast updates...because I can't. I've caught some strange writer's block, see, and I can't seem to finish some of the things I write quickly enough. I'm even up to my ears trying to finish the epilogue of my other story...but that aside, here is the next chapter!

Thank you to all who read the previous chapter; I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the previous one. Again, constructive criticism is much welcomed and accepted. Though I will admit, beforehand, that I tend to skip the editorial part of my writing (I have this bad habit of publishing a chapter I write before actually editing it). So if there are some grammar/typo errors, my bad-I know it ain't an excuse on my part but...owell. And you are always free to share what you feel on review, so let us not be stingy.

Happy reading!

**Disclaimer:** The usual.

* * *

**The Maid Turns Clinical!**

**Chapter 2: Food and Space Aliens**

"_Misaki."_

_She woke up with a jolt and the first thing she saw was a pair of dark eyes glittering back at her. For a minute, Misaki wondered why she could see him through the darkness until she realized that the moonlight streaming through the sliding door panels of the balcony illuminated him. His crisp polo was open to the last button, revealing his lean chest and abdomen; skin aglow, he looked almost ethereal._

"_Where am I?" she squeaked and, remembering what transpired earlier in the alley up to the point where he brought him in the taxi, consciously looked down at herself and breathed in relief; she was still clothed._

"_Don't worry I haven't touched you…yet," Usui Takumi murmured softly. When she released the breath she had been holding, he added teasingly. "An active participant is a much more enjoyable partner after all."_

_Misaki couldn't help it; she chuckled. She doubted that this was the last time that night that he would make her laugh. She breathed deeply, and realized there were twin lines of cool dampness on her cheeks. She cursed under her breath and wiped them quickly but it was too late; apparently, he had noticed far long before she had and, in fact, had been watching gasp and stiffen in her sleep. _

_His intense stare was starting to unnerve her and so, she boldly and somewhat furiously, repeated her first inquiry. "Where am I?"_

"_I told you before that I'd bring you to a hotel, didn't I? So here we are."_

_He reached out and switched-on the lamp situated at the nearby end table. The burst of yellow light hurt her eyes for a second; she blinked twice to clear her vision and was awed at the hotel room. It was obviously very expensive and screamed European from exquisite furniture, to the carpeted flooring, to the creamy walls. On the far side of the room was an antique table with two chairs situated across each other. Twin unlit candles were above it, and two silver-covered dishes were on it._

_As she pushed herself up, she realized that the bed was plushy and…different. Understanding the confused expression on her face, he smiled and answered her unspoken question. "Feather."_

"_Oh," was all she could say. It was the first time she had lain down a feathered bed. "This is your…suite?"_

"_Yes. You fell asleep in the taxi so I carried you up. I thought it would be rude to wake you."_

"_Oh." Really, this was making her stupid. She blushed at the amused expression on his face. When her eyes fell on his hands, just inches from her own hand, she remembered how he touched her in the dark alley, how he plunged his fingers inside her—_

_A breath hitched in her throat. The place between her legs felt tingly and uncomfortable; she looked away. _Remember, she said to herself, you don't want this at all. You shouldn't feel strange, just because he is nice and gentle now. They're all the same. You hate men.

"_Are you hungry?" _

_The suddenness of the question surprised her. "W-what?" But a loud rumble from her stomach answered for her; she glared at him, embarrassment forgotten when he chuckled. _

_He stood and offered her his hand. Still glaring at him, she ignored the proffered hand and moved out of the bed in the most dignified way she could which earned an impressed smirk from him._

_As she trailed hesitantly behind him, Usui lit the candles with a gold-plated lighter which was on the table. For the first time, she noticed the bottle of red wine, neck-deep in bowl of ice. He pulled a chair; confused, she stared at him and the chair. "Sit down," he said patiently. When she remained motionless, he sighed. "Don't be so rigid. It's just food." _

_MIsaki narrowed her eyes, searching for a trap from side to side. Usui immediately decided on another tactic; that is, he lightly touched her chin and tipped her face until their eyes met. "Sit down…or would you rather I make you?"_

_The expression on his face seemed to promise entirely hedonistic ways of making her obedient. Both dry-mouthed and frustrated with herself, she sat down on the chair with a huff. When she was settled, Usui took off the silver lid revealing corn soup for the appetizer. She enjoyed the very light flavor and sighed as warmth settled in her stomach. She was not able to eat both breakfast and lunch for that day. When they both cleared their soups, Usui replaced the empty bowls with the main course. "Tonight's main dish is angel hair pasta in Osso bucco. Enjoy." He placed the lids on a nearby counter and assumed his seat in front of her. _

_She wanted to ask why he was feeding her instead of fucking her brains out but his intent gaze which seemed to be waiting for her first bite silenced her. Eventually, she succumbed—she was very hungry after all—and found herself soaring to meat-heaven. Her eyes actually glazed over as she looked almost dreamily at him. "Is this what I think it is?"_

_Usui grinned, enjoying her reaction and began to eat as well. "Yes. It is beef."_

"_I love it." _

_The quiet, almost solemn way she spoke humbled him for some reason; he hid his smile. "I'm glad you like it."_

"_You called this Osso bucco…is it Italian?" When he nodded, she continued. "You have a personal chef?" _

_He shrugged. "The hotel has a chef, but I prefer my own cooking."_

_She stared at him. "You made this…for me?"_

_Her words suddenly shook Usui to the core; and he realized that she was the first person she ever cooked a meal for. Slowly, he raised his eyes to her again and whispered very softly. "Yes."_

_For the first time that night, Misaki realized that his eyes glittered emerald in the candlelight. The words were stuck in her throat and she could feel herself blushing furiously. Their gaze was suspended for what seemed like a long time when, she suddenly blurted, without thinking._

"_What time is it?"_

_He didn't answer the question immediately. After a moment of brooding, he answered. "8:05pm."_

"_Then—then, wouldn't it be right to just—just—"_

"_Too eager, my pet," Usui murmured softly. "We have plenty of time for that later. But you must eat first."_

_Misaki blinked disbelievingly, aware that "encounters" like this aren't usually laced with romanticism. And it was romantic…it was almost like a date. The idea made her blush; if that was so, this would be her very first date. She had never entertained men before. It was tragic and ironic that, after all her trouble at maintaining her chastity, she would have to give it away like this in the end._

Why is he doing this? _She wondered. Shaking her head, she concentrated on her plate and reverently forked a mouthful._

"_I've never eaten anything like this."_

Again, he was touched by the compliment; he tried to wave it away. "_Its just a simple Italian dish. Nothing special."_

"_Are you kidding? It's delicious! Really!" Her overenthusiastic response seemed to surprise him, and for the first time, he grinned. "What are you grinning at?"_

"_Nothing," he said, shaking his head._

"_Are you making fun of me?" she glared._

"_No, no," he said, and deciding to be honest, he said. "So food melts all your hostility."_

_She gave him her best glare in spite of all the pasta she shoved inelegantly in her mouth, and Usui decided that he liked having her look at him in that way; he decided to irk her further. "I didn't think you were this easy to win, Misa-chan."_

"_Well," she began after gulping the half-chewed food in her mouth. "I just didn't think there was a point in being angry, since you are feeding me."_

_He smiled infuriatingly at her again. "What if the food is doped?"_

_At that, she choked on her next forkful, at which Usui hastily uncorked the wine and poured a glass. "Drink," he ordered unnecessarily because she grabbed the glass and pushed the bolus down with the wine. _

_When Usui laughed, she coughed angrily at him, "You—you—ass!" At that, he only laughed louder, she found herself giggling hysterically along with him. "God, why am I laughing?"_

"_I dunno. Could it be you're having fun, Misa-chan?" he suggested._

_She struggled against the smile on threatening to bloom on her lips and said, "No."_

"_Really, now," He murmured, raising a brow._

_Gulping nervously, she decided that honesty was better than the look he was giving her. "Alright, fine! I am having fun!" But as soon as she admitted it, she was unsettled. _What am I doing? Why am I here? You're not here for fun at all!

_She gave him a curious look and suddenly that strange idea returned to her; finally, she could not help but voice her thoughts. "What do you want? What's with this room, the candles, this delicious food? Why does this feel like—like a date?"_

_The question surprised him. He angled his head up at her, marveling over the rosiness staining her white skin, the way her mouth tried vainly not to smile, the way her eyes glittered in defiance. She was fascinating. And so when he murmured his answer, he felt an odd stirring in his gut. "Maybe it is."_

* * *

Usui Takumi.

That was the name in the file. Surely, there were many "Usui's" out there; she didn't even know if the name he gave her back then was his given name or surname. It could have been a code name for all she knew. So she shouldn't be too surprised to see that the name Usui Takumi on the file. She shouldn't.

As the name registered in her head, a swirl of possibilities, a full onslaught of memories and sensations just swamped her, freezing her whole body. Without realizing, the file slipped from her fingers, thankfully onto the table. And then came that niggling sensation of a pair of eyes looking—boring holes into her…suddenly, Misaki knew that there were really no coincidences in this world.

In one swift motion full of despair and dread, she turned to the door.

And he was there. Just…there. Unfathomable green eyes stared back at her and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.

The classroom was noisy; she was vaguely aware of it. For that full ten seconds wherein neither spoke nor broke the eye contact, the world seemed to narrow into a still and isolated room where only the two of them existed. Her mind simply drew a blank.

And yet the moment he moved towards her—_towards her_—panic roared in her head. The questions which escaped her during that brief moment of mindlessness brought her insides crashing.

_What is he doing here? Why, oh God, does he have to study here? Shit. Shit. What do I do? He knows about me—he knows—Does he recognize me? Should I pretend not to know him? Should I—_

Misaki closed her eyes to contain her confused thoughts and to bar his approach at the same time. And yet the memory of laughter and candlelit dinner returned to bother her. When she opened her eyes, Usui Takumi was already standing just a step away from her. When she raised her eyes to meet his, her throat went dry with shock at the intensity of his gaze. All doubt went to hell.

_Oh God, he remembers. What do you want from me?_

As though reading the question from her expression, he gave her a half-smile. "You must be the class president. I am Usui Takumi, the transferee. Dr. Miyazono told me you would be introducing me to the rest of the class."

He offered her his right hand. When she raised her hand to meet the handshake, her cold and clammy palm locked warm grip. With resolve, she forced her eyes to look back at him levelly. How can his eyes be so unreadable when she could feel her own anxiety reflecting back at him?

And then, he smiled—that smile she remembered so well which showed no teeth and oozed too much mystery and self-confidence. A muscle twitched involuntarily in her jaw as she gulped the budding irritation down her throat. She briefly flashed her own smile at him—all-teeth and anger—before bringing her attention back to the class, a cool expression on her face as she led the introduction.

"Everyone, this is our new classmate, Usui Takumi who just transferred from..."

He found himself amused and somewhat impressed by the fluidity of her transformation. Had he been less keen, he would have thought there were no after effects to the sudden encounter. And yet he knew well enough from the shock he saw on her eyes…and the fact that she had forgotten to let go of his hand while she confidently, yet absentmindedly introduced him to the class.

He wondered if he should call her attention to this as no one in the class seemed to have noticed, or if they had, simply didn't have the guts to point it out. From the rapt attention on their faces, they seemed to respect—and fear—her.

_Interesting, _thought Usui as he watched her. _How many layers does this…woman have? _

He gave her hand a light squeeze which finally caught her attention. She barely contained her surprise when she realized how comfortable her hand had been in his. In that instant, her cheeks flushed and she sharply pulled her hand away. Her voice was very cool when she spoke. "I don't know about your country, but I assure you that extended handshakes are not part of the traditional Japanese greeting."

Usui's brows shot up in surprise. Did she just pin the fault of her own absentmindedness on him? Some of their classmates giggled at this—at him, he realized. He smiled deviously.

"I assure _you_, Ms. President, that in spite of my looks, I am entirely Japanese at heart. But since you speak so lightly of foreign traditions," with that, he smoothly pulled her to him, hand and waist pressed neatly against him, "some of my inherited French may just share some of it with you." Before she could protest, his mouth was on hers.

He meant it to be quick, but he couldn't move away from. Cheers and hoots erupted around them which were silenced by a deafening slap. A harsh red imprint marred his pale cheek but Usui continued to smile at the furiously blushing Misaki. How can he not be amused when she huffed and puffed at him like that, much like that fabled wolf?

"You—you—!" she sputtered angrily, clenching and unclenching her fingers. She could still feel his mouth on hers, could still hear the blood pulsating harshly around her ears.

His smile remained intact though he felt just as shaken inside. He leaned a bit towards her and murmured softly so only she can hear, "Well, the joke's on you now, my beloved president." He turned to address the class in a clear and loud voice. "Though I have just violated your—now, also mine—beloved president's sensibilities…please take care of me." To Misaki's dismay, he gave them a very traditional Japanese bow which obviously garnered the approval of the general populace if the return of the hoots and claps were any indication.

Somewhat from the back—most probably one of Kurosaki's troops—shouted, "Yeah, show her who's boss Usui-san!"

He returned the shout with a salute. "I just may." And gave a sideways wink at Misaki.

Misaki gritted her teeth—no use hiding her anger now. _Self-satisfied bastard…are you mocking me?_

"Bring it on," she whispered through her teeth which only brought a bigger smile to his lips.

* * *

"Oh my God, Misaki! That Usui is one hot number—if you don't jump him, I will!" said Sakura with a starry-eyed expression. It was already their lunch break and they have an hour before classes resume.

"He's nothing but a bastard! How dare he do that! And in front of everyone, too!" she snarled, stomping ahead of her two friends. It had taken her a few minutes to settle that riot in the classroom, fortunately before the next professor arrived. All that time, she felt his gaze on her back, unnerving her inwardly. The self-satisfied expression she found whenever she chanced to spy on him irked her completely.

They stepped out of the building and found their usual den under the only cherry blossom tree in the school grounds unoccupied. Misaki spread the blanket that Shizuko brought. When the two finally took their seats, Misaki remained standing.

"Hey, aren't you eating?" said Shizuko with a frown.

She gave them a small smile. "I…need to borrow some books from the library."

"Aww! Misaki-chan! You didn't bring lunch again! Are you gonna start this semester by starving yourself inside the library?" cried Sakura.

"No, it's not that—it's just…I need to look into the books that I need to study. I don't have books, and I wasn't able to read much in advance during the summer, so…"

Sakura shook her head. "Who reads during the summer anyways! This is our first day…and the next few days will be super hectic on you, especially with your responsibilities. Would you please, please stay here and eat with us? We'll share our _bento _with you, it's more than enough anyways."

Misaki blinked at her friends, feeling extremely warm and touched. Even the passive Shizuko was peering at her over her eyeglasses with an attempted puppy-expression. She sighed. She is powerless over these girls after all. "All right, all right. I'll just borrow a few books, and then I will come back here immediately. Just start without me—be back in five!"

* * *

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of sea-green eyes had been watching them from arrival to her retreat from the corridor outside the cafeteria. Sakura's wailing voice had been loud enough for him to get a gist of what had happened. An idea popped in his head and he grinned to himself.

_Why not? _And with that he disappeared inside the cafeteria.

* * *

The situation, when Misaki returned sixteen seconds earlier than she promised with two five-pound books in her arms, destroyed her appetite all together. Her two girls were conversing and joking with her _enemy _as though they were long-time friends. A ball of anger mixed with nervousness roiled in her guts—what in the world has he been telling them?

_Not about me. They wouldn't be laughing like that if they knew what I do for a living these days, I'm sure. _And yet the roiling in her gut refused to stop. As she neared, she realized that Usui had stolen her favorite seat. She gritted her teeth. _Stupid invader from outer space! Right—you're an—_

"Alien! Pervert!" she shouted triumphantly, stamping a foot before pointing a finger at him. Which was a feat considering she held both the books under her other arm.

There was silence which was broken only by the sound of chirping birds. Usui simply stared at her. Someone giggled. Misaki blinked at Shizuko—for it was Shizuko who was giggling. And then she realized how stupid she must have looked and sounded. When Sakura laughed, hugging herself for support, Misaki found herself blushing furiously. Did they really have to react like that? _Traitors, _she thought abashedly. The amused look Usui was giving her was no help at all. As dignified as she could, she took a seat opposite him.

When the laughter died down, she coughed to clear her throat. "I'm sorry. I was too…relaxed—"to her dismay Shizuko covered her mouth; she went on. "—since I didn't know we would be having a guest."

"Usui-san just happened to pass by right after you left," said Shizuko. "He's joining us for lunch."

"Lucky!" piped in Sakura cheerily.

'_Just happened to pass by' huh, _she thought moodily. _Lucky, indeed._

"I don't see a lunchbox on you," said Misaki civilly.

"I don't see one on you either," returned Usui with a smile.

"Usui-san bought some stuff from the cafeteria."

With that as a cue, Usui took the plastic bags that were hidden from view. One had a couple of sandwiches which the other had two cans of fruit juice.

Without thinking, Misaki said, "Wow, that's good enough for two people."

"That's because it is." As he expected, he had caught her by surprise. When she didn't speak, he continued amiably. "Peace offering…for earlier."

"Aw, that's nice of you, Usui-san! Though you really are free to tease her any time," Sakura giggled when Misaki glared at her. "Sorry, couldn't help it—your expression in the classroom earlier was priceless."

"Could it be you finally found you match, Misaki-chan?" smiled Shizuku.

The young woman resisted the urge to connect a palm to her forehead. _These people have no idea, absolutely no idea how horrifying the situation is for her at all!_

But a cool thought seemed to enter her head. _None at all…haven't you taken care of that?_

Her forehead creased. She has been lying to everyone—her family, her close friends—for six whole months now about her job. And if there was anything she hated most, it was deceiving people she was close to. She could convince herself that it was her choice, but the guilt weighed on her. And now, with Usui Takumi's presence, she would have to compound that lie, to pretend even more than she already was.

_But he's not exactly doing anything wrong, right? And it's not like he was ever harsh to me back then. In fact it was the exact opposite…_

He had shown her Italian food and candlelight. But she could not afford to be friends with her. What happened in the past...must remain there.

"Misa-chan."

She stiffened at the nickname but it wasn't Usui who called but Sakura. Her big eyes looked at her with worry. "You've gone quiet…are you alright?"

She relaxed into a wan smile. "Of course…just, um, thinking of some stuff that the other members of the academic staff asked me to do."

"You haven't touched your food either," reproached Shizuku.

"And you haven't thanked me yet," quipped Usui teasingly, hoping that it would pull her out of the sudden mood dip. Instead of giving a rejoinder, she gave him a considering look.

"I'm…" she hesitated and gave them a smile so bright he almost believed it. "I'm good. Don't worry about it. And Usui—"

Someone called her. "Ayuzawa-san!" It was Yukimura leaning over the second floor balcony. "Dr. Sakurai is asking for you in the office. And Dr. Miyazono wanted to see you."

"I'm coming over!" she shouted back and stood up. To her friends, she said apologetically. "Sorry. I'll try to make sure tomorrow's lunch is vacant for us to get together, okay?"

Before she turned, she hesitated again, then—

With an expression which was a cross between annoyance and embarrassment, she spoke.

"Usui…thanks for…just thanks."

His breath was caught. He didn't know what it was exactly—was it the way she frowned and gritted her teeth while speaking, or was it the red tinge spreading from her cheeks to her ears? Or an unhealthy combination of both? He thought he had forgotten how...cute she was whenever she would wear that expression. He wondered over his attraction back then, the feelings she had stirred; the same feelings he had been forced to let go. Idealistic feelings, he thought, of a young man. But that night inevitably changed him.

_Intrigue, _he tried to convince himself. _She simply intrigues me now. _And yet the more he thought of her, the more he remembered; even that light kiss in the classroom stirred something in him that begged of something more than intrigue.

He woke from his private imaginings when Sakura groaned.

"Aw! She left her books!"

"We can give it back to her later," said Shizuko. "I'm more worried that she hasn't eaten yet."

Usui shifted his attention to the black-haired girl. "Does she do this habitually?"

The two girls looked at each other before replying in unison. "YES!"

He frowned. He had an idea as to the reason but he felt it necessary to ask anyways. "Why?"

Sakura gave her an appraising look; when she saw the earnestness in his expression, she sighed. A somber look was on her face. "She keeps saying that she's on a diet but we all know that she has been in a financial strait for some a few years now. A year ago, it got worse—something about her mom collapsing; before that, she was already juggling school and one job but after that incident, she juggled school and _two_ jobs, sometimes, three when she can help it. If it weren't for her full scholarship, she wouldn't be able to afford to go to med school with all her financial troubles."

A cool breeze swept through them and a lone sakura blossom fell. Sakura caught it with an open palm before continuing. "Shizuko and I have always brought homemade lunch good enough for two people…so she can share it with us. It's the only thing we can do for her. But even then…she just doesn't like relying on other people. It is…worrying. Too little to eat, too little sleep…it will take a toll eventually, wouldn't it? You don't need to train to be a doctor to know where this is going."

"Sakura…"

She sighed again, looking at Shizuku. "I know. I said too much, didn't I?"

Shizuku shook her head before smiling at Usui. "I could have stopped her earlier but I didn't because I feel, like she does, that you could be trusted. Were we wrong to have thought so?"

Usui, who had worn a contemplative expression during the whole monologue, simply smiled before saying. "Misaki is really fortunate to have such caring friends. If you will excuse me…"

He left, carrying a plastic and two five-pound books with him.

The afternoon classes had been canceled due to an emergency on the doctor scheduled to teach Neuroanatomy that afternoon. As a reading assignment, two 50-page chapters on motor and sensory tracts had been assigned. After announcing this to the class, Misaki immediately proceeded to the library to look up said chapters.

As expected, there were few people in the library; after all, it was still the first day of classes. She sighed in relief and found her study area, located in a hidden area which the librarian, who had naturally taken a liking, had shown her.

* * *

As she went up to the shelves, she remembered that short conversation she had with Dr. Miyazono that afternoon.

"_How is Takumi doing?" asked the doctor after explaining the recent class updates and assignments._

_Misaki started slightly at the affection and familiarity Dr. Miyazono assigned to Usui. "He is…doing great."_

"_I heard he kissed you in front of the class," she paused to laugh at the blush spreading in Misaki's cheeks. "Oh, you know how news travel! Pardon Takumi…he can be quite debonair when he wants to be, but you must have really caught his attention if you stirred him that way. He must really have taken an immediate liking to you."_

_Her words stiffened Misaki. The only liking she can imagine him having for her is to see her flush in embarrassment. "How do you know Usui, Doc?"_

_The doctor simply smiled before murmuring. "A friend's…brother, my dear. And Takumi, too, can be a friend as well, as I am sure you will discover in the future."_

She unintentionally slammed the book she had procured onto her table. What in the world does the doctor mean by that? Does she know something? How well does she know that…that guy?

With a huff, she turned and gasped, stumbling back against the chair.

Who else but Usui…in the flesh.

"Dammit, alien! You surprised me."

"My, my. Name calling again, my president?"

Heat flared across her cheeks.

_What is with him that is affecting me like this? That…liaison in the past was just that right—just a liaison?_

_You know it isn't._

She ignored the direction of her thoughts, and chose to ignore him as well. Since, she was already seated, she relaxed herself on the chair, opened the book she had taken (6th edition of Hane's Neuroanatomy) and tried reading the reading assignment.

'_The study of regional neurobiology (brain structures in gross specimens, in brain slices, in stained sections, and in MRI and CT) is the basis for the study of__ systems neurobiology__ (tracts, pathways, cranial nerves and their functions), which, in turn, is the basis for understanding and diagnosing the neurologically impaired patient…'_

_Oh God. We're alone. And I'm just…_

'…_Building on the concepts learned in earlier chapters on external and internal brain anatomy in specimens and in MRI and CT, on brain vascular patterns…' _

_**Reading**. God. What am I doing? **What do I do? **_

'…_and on the relationships of cranial nerves with long tracts, this chapter explores systems neurobiology with a particular emphasis on clinical correlations…'_

**_What do I tell him?_**

Something interrupted her line of vision.

"Can't you see that I'm—!"

A plastic-wrapped sandwich and can of juice lay atop the pages of the book she had been reading. Usui sat casually on the table, his knee bumping her shoulder slightly. "You didn't eat the sandwich…and drink the juice."

"This is the library!" she hissed.

"So?"

"Food and drinks aren't allowed here!"

"If you eat it, it won't be here anymore, would it? Even if there were people here, this area is quite hidden from view."

"That's—"

But the expression in his face showed no other alternative. Gulping down her stubbornness, she took the sandwich, trying not to cringe at the seemingly loud crunching noise the plastic was making on each movement. The first bite was enough to somewhat abate the hunger pangs she had been holding back the entire time and she was almost grateful. When he opened the canned fruit juice for her, she reached out and murmured. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"It's rude to stare when someone is eating," she blurted, flashing him a heated look.

But there was only that half-smile on his face which she could not read at all. "But I like watching you."

_Bastard. _She thought immediately before turning away to gobble down the rest of the sandwich.

"You have something here—" Before she could fully grasp what he was about to do, he reached out to brush the bread crumbs hanging at her chin. His thumb lingered longer than necessary before pulling away. Misaki held her breath and glanced up at him; he remained staring at her with those emerald green eyes.

Now or never then.

"Are—are we going to have a problem?"

There, she said it finally. She hoped he would get what she meant and make things easier for her.

But he simply tipped his head, eyes never leaving her. "Problem…how?"

Maybe not. She struggled against the frustration in her throat. Before she could respond, he asked softly. "How is …work?"

_Why is my heart hammering like this?_ "Work is…fine," she answered. "Look—"

"I want you to quit."

A beat of stunned silence. Then—"

"_What?_"

"Quit," he said softly. He straightened, as though his full height was an advantage over her seated form.

...

"_Be my maid instead."_

* * *

**Whew! How was it? The review button is just one click away! **


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello, everyone! I has been quite a [long] while, has it not? (sigh) Sorry for posting so late. I know I keep saying I'll post as soon as I can, yadda-yadda, but I keep getting swamped! And once the water subsides, I can't seem to find my footing anymore. But I did warn you that it takes a while for me to post, and…**

**Okay, I realize I tend to blah and excuse all the time, so I must stop. Anyways, thank you for all those awesome reviews. Really gave me the courage to push through the tough times somehow. The fact that people actually take time to read…and even review…what I've written gives me an amazing feeling. Thank you.**

**I hope you take time and enjoy this one as well. **

* * *

******The Maid Turns Clinical!**

**Chapter 3: Musings in the Interim**

_His soft answer had frozen Misaki _

"_We're—we're—this is…." She sputtered inelegantly. With a napkin, she wiped the corners of her mouth, mind racing furiously. There were no signs of laughter in Usui's face now—in fact, he seemed to be reflecting deeply on something whilst staring at her. This made her uncomfortable. She cleared her throat. "I—I think you misheard my question—"_

"_I don't think I misheard anything at all," he interrupted._

_This time, it was her turn to stare. "So….this—you're really making this—a date?" _

_Seeing her flabbergasted expression, he felt more confident with his answer; with a smile, he murmured. "Yes."_

_MIsaki found herself staring some more; and staring some more, she found herself getting irritated with the self-satisfied expression on his face. All the warm feelings she felt earlier with the romance, the ambiance, slipped away. She suddenly felt foolish—foolish for getting carried away, even for a moment, causing her to forget her objective. _

_She chuckled bitterly. "Don't kid around with me. This…_cannot_ be a date." _

_Usui narrowed his eyes, noticing the change in her mood. Part of him wanted to tread carefully, part of him wanted to stir her on; he chose the latter. "Why not?"_

"_Why not!" Even as she shuddered for control, Usui watched, fascinated with her temper. "Look. I think you're misunderstanding something here." _

_With eyes unreadable in the dim light, he slowly filled his own glass and swirled it almost hypnotically at her. "If I have, then you should enlighten me. Why don't you?"_

_Misaki struggled through her anger; she wanted to break something. Instead, she sighed through gritted teeth, fists curled into a tight ball. When she spoke again, her tone was almost reasonable. "I told you, didn't I? I don't want to lose my—my virginity—because I sold it. I'm choosing for myself, just this one time. So all this—prelude—is unnecessary. I don't want or need it at all."_

"_But you don't know me at all."_

_She paused, not really following the sudden shift of thought. "No, I don't—"_

"_What if I don't want what you want?" he interposed, sipping his wine delicately._

_Misaki let out strangled cry. "Why am I here, then?"_

"_Because," he thought for a moment. "You interest me."_

"…_okay."_

_He smiled. "Okay."_

"_Then—then, we better get down to it," she said through gritted teeth. _

Let's just get it over with. Don't confuse me._ But she kept silent of these thoughts. _

_Unfortunately, he could not keep his own thoughts unvoiced. "You still don't understand..._You interest me_. I don't want just your body—that would be rude and shallow of me, right?" He gave her an impish smile. "Especially when we have just begun our date." _

"_I told you: this can't be a—"_

_He ignored her and went on. "I want to know you—all of you. For instance, why were you crying in your sleep?"_

"_That's none of your business!" she answered sharply. "Why are you doing this?"_

_He pondered over her question himself. _Why am I doing this? She's being stubborn anyways, so why don't I simplify this and get it over with?

_But he found himself honestly compelled to know more about her. True, their encounter has been short, but the attachment he felt was immediate. For a moment, he pondered if what he felt was pity, and yet she wouldn't be here if it were that simple. As he watched her angular face, furious amber eyes flickering back at him through the candlelight, he realized:_

"_Because I want this to be special."_

_The answer threw her off. But the next words shook her further:_

"_I like you…Misaki."_

_She shook her head, denying this, denying the surge of unwanted pleasure she felt from hearing the unexpected words. "That's impossible! You just met me! You know we can't make this personal." The flaming wickers from the candles danced as she slammed her hands on the table; his face, illuminated by the red-orange light, was as unfathomable as ever. He stood up, and she raised her fists to warn him off. "Get away from me!"_

"_Too late for that," he murmured, pissed off with himself for confessing, pissed off with her for her reception of it. In one smooth motion, he grabbed her wrists, moved around the table and pulled her towards him. She struggled against his grip. And yet though she refused to look at him, a blush stained her cheeks. _

_Usui wondered fleetingly over her conflicting reactions. His mouth formed a thin line. Why not do a little experiment? He released her left wrist; she automatically responded by pushing him away with the free hand. Ignoring the hand beating against his chest, he slid his hand behind her, pressing his fingertips along the small of her back, allowing her small body to mold deeper against him. A sound of frustration passed his lips as he felt the jolt of electricity from their connected bodies, felt his heart hammering almost painfully in his chest walls. And yet he also felt her pulse quicken, felt her hand lax palm-faced against his chest, heard the breath whoosh out from her. Watched as her furious eyes glazed. _

_Immediately, he felt relief upon her response, realizing that he wasn't alone. She may deny it endlessly—but body language never lies. _

"_You want me, too." It was no question. _

_She only gulped down the mass of emotions she felt. Intense arousal burned through him as he watched her._

Why does she have to complicate something so simple?_ He wondered. _

_When her breath returned to her, she looked up at him with uncertain eyes. "Usui-san—"_

"_This situation doesn't beg honorifics, does it?"_

_She licked her lips, enticing him further. It was too late to deny the attraction she felt now, not when she just gave herself away. His face seemed to be coming closer, too close—his breath tickled her nose, tingled her mouth. "Usui…I told you. We can't make this personal." _

_But he was no longer listening. Usui leaned to cover her slightly agape mouth with his. She almost staggered, legs suddenly weak, but he caught her in his arms. Her mind screamed at herself to fight him, to fight off his persistent lips, to bite off that tongue, to push him away, but she couldn't. Her mantras were lost in the whirl of desire which swept her._

_She didn't want this at all._

_But suddenly, she could move again, and she found herself responding with full force; her arms wound around him on instinct, scratching his back in fury and pleasure. One of his hands was on her bottom, the other arm wound around her back to support her. She shuddered when he squeezed her._

_As he pulled up, she gasped for air momentarily but was reclaimed immediately. His mouth travelled to the base of her neck, and when he nipped his way to her collar bones she cried out clawing at him harder. _

_No longer able to control himself, Usui made a sound in his throat and carried her off to bed._

* * *

Hodou Aoi adjusted the mirror whilst slipping a discrete glance at the rearview mirror. Since the boss entered the car, he had been staring pensively through the window. His left forearm rested over a couple of leather-bound books he had brought in.

Usui Takumi was obviously in no mood.

He had been in the Usui household for four years now and since he had been assigned to Takumi two years ago, he managed to get a handle on some of his master's moods, and even a peek into the man himself. Conversation was only awkward when he had a bad day. But today was different—at least, something feels different, he thought curiously.

"Yo, Boss."

There was no answer.

"You're pretty early—I thought you said you had classes up to 5:30 pm."

Aoi paused, waiting for an answer. Just when he was about to lose his patience and poke some more, Usui gave him a sparse answer. "Afternoon class canceled."

"Huh. So who rammed the stick up your ass?" He muttered to himself. Usui sent him a bland look, making Aoi wonder if he heard the comment at all.

Discomfited by the gaze, Aoi coughed and tried to joke. "Looking so glum…you dumped or something?"

The reaction, this time, was totally unexpected; his boss visibly stiffened, eyes widening with shock—like he had an epiphany or something.

_Bull's eye. _The young chauffer whistled, impressed with himself. "Wow. Did I get that right? Guess that sums up your awesome, boss. You dumped someone again? Or was it the other way around?"

Usui raised his eyes to the mirror and the icy expression Aoi saw made him flinch. He was not exactly afraid of his master but he was aware of danger when he saw it. Nevertheless, he squarely met the glare in the mirror before smoothly returning his eyes to the road. He felt his own temper spiking but he bore it down. Though he made it a point to argue with his boss once in a while, he just didn't think it would be wise to push the man today.

"_Geez_. Thought you'd be happy and all, since you insisted on coming back so much."

"Just drive and mind your own business, Aoi."

With a feral grin, the 18-year old replied, "Oh, but isn't it the butler's job to mind to your businesses, aside from acting as your personal chauffeur?" When the only response he received was a grunt, the grin widened triumphantly and continued. "So I can't be selfish and just mind my own business, can I?"

Usui's glare, which never wavered from the mirror, intensified as though daring him to speak any further. When he didn't take the bait, Usui only sighed and murmured. "Just…drive. It has been a long day." Shutting his eyes, he rested his forehead against the cool glass, as though determined to be oblivious of the passing world.

Aoi only smirked to himself as he murmured a "Yes, boss."

Not once, he noted, did his boss' hand leave the surface of the stack beside him.

* * *

Misaki sighed as she parked her bicycle in the dark alley. As she did her usual routine of securing her bike with a lock-and-chain, her hands shook, and it was only when she grabbed some old newspapers that she realized how violently. She fisted her hands in an effort to still them yet the anxiety coursed through her whole body. She closed her eyes to clear her thoughts, but emerald eyes invaded it.

_Don't think about it. Don't think about _him_._

Her heart almost flew to her throat as the alley door burst open. "Misa-chan! You're awfully early today."

"Satsuki-neesama!" she greeted affectionately. "Why are you throwing that stuff out? It's Honoka-san's turn today, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's okay! Honoka texted me about being late."

"But you should've waited for me instead of—"

Satsuki rolled her eyes. "Don't fuss about it, Misa! It's no biggie, so don't worry about it. And if you really want me to wait for you next time just to throw trash, I suggest you buy a phone already."

Misaki sighed in defeat. Satsuki, their "employer", was a bright and happy woman of thirty-five years old. She used to be one of them until a year ago when their previous pimp suddenly up and went, leaving them all jobless. Satsuki, in effect, saved them by using what little of her savings by restarting the business and changing some aspects of it. Her dream, they knew, was for them to earn enough money to start anew. Suffice to say, Misaki respected and admired her, despite—or probably—because of everything. "Yeah, I need to get out early today, too. I'll just finish the daily quota—and probably add one more if I can—before I leave."

Satsuki smiled sympathetically. "Oh, yeah. School is starting already, huh?"

"Yeah—"

"Oh, I almost forgot! You've been ordered for a Special."

Misaki's eyebrows shot up. "Loaded client. Nice."

"Are you fine with that?"

"Can't really say I'm not, can I? Haha. Kidding," Satsuki smiled at her sympathetically before entering.

There are two things that Satsuki could claim to be proud of when it came to the Love-Love Café. Firstly, it was legal, and being legal led to another big advantage called cleanliness. They benefitted from routine health inspections and check-ups which meant there were no drugs and no STDs; even first-time customers are routinely asked for a health status. As very few prostitution rings could be legal and famous at the same time, they earned many customers in the red-light district. And plenty of them were very willing to pay for the services they rendered.

The routine in Love-Love Café has always been the same. There are small security groups at front provided by the local mafia (old friends with Satsuki). At the front desk, someone would be showing them a brochure containing photographs of the entertainers. If the person requiring the services was of high social standing, a special menu would be given them showing the top four entertainers: Honoka, Misaki, Erika and Subaru. Each has their own special parlors and showrooms located at the upper floors. As for Satsuki, she would only be called per request, and even then, it would depend on whether she wanted to entertain them or not.

As it was quite early, Misaki went up to her own parlors and took out a dress with heavy lacy trimmings.

_So today is Maid-day,_ she thought with an inward sigh. _How ironic._

She put it on, smoothed the small creases and stared at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her held a confused expression today. There was a personal make-up set on the boudoir; she took some cream and spread it evenly on her face. Then, she used a light foundation which matched her skin tone; when she was satisfied, she took out the bronzers and pencil eyeliners. A year ago, she had no idea how to use all these products; now, it was already a mindless task which usually relaxed her. But today, she was haunted by those unreadable, intense eyes…

_Don't think about it. Don't think about him._

And yet the more she tried not to, the more she thought of him. And the memory shook her.

* * *

"_What," MIsaki stood up slowly. The noisy scraping produced by the feet of the chair against the floor added only to the tension. "What…did you say?" _

"_You heard me," Usui angled his head to read the expression on her face but her long bangs hid her eyes. He continued. "The pay will be good. You don't have to—"_

_For the second time that day, Misaki's hand rose—this time to punch him—but he caught her wrist, not without some surprise._

"_Why are you—" But he could feel her hand shaking; in fact, her whole body seemed be vibrating with energy._

_When she finally looked up, he was stunned by the unexpected fury in her eyes. "Your maid? Do you think I'm stupid? You're just a pervert." She hissed._

_His eyes flashed at her. "I haven't told you the terms yet."_

"_I don't need to hear it. I know what you want—all men are the same!"_

_He didn't waver from the animosity in her voice. Usui simply looked at her, a strange feeling in his chest. "You told me before that I'm different from any man you've met. Has that changed?"_

_She faltered but shook her head. "Don't bring what happened then here."_

"_What I am offering you is a way to change your life. We both know you hate what you're doing. I can…match what you earn a night, and you don't need to do something you don't like."_

"_I don't need your pity." She punctuated this by pulling her arm free. She raised her hand again but she hesitated; she clenched her fist before lowering_

"_What you don't need," he said softly, almost dangerously. "Is that damn pride of yours."_

"_Don't judge me—don't—!" She wanted to scream at him, but she didn't want their conversation heard. She choked the anger down and pulled her wrist away from his grasp. She closed her eyes, closed him off. "Please…I'm tired. And I still have to study." _

_She opened her eyes, and the expression on her face simply sliced through Usui. "Please…leave me alone."_

_With that, she cleared the table and left him staring stock still into space._

* * *

She was already finished coloring her eyelids and cheekbones. She added some white along the edges of her waterline, to make her eyes look bigger. For her mouth, she applied a thin layer of cream then added a lip liner, before putting on brown lipstick; she spread it evenly with her pinkie. For added drama, she applied glittering floss over her mouth and dabbed sparkling powder over her face, neck and chest. For the last touch, she added mascara and curled her lashes. With that done, she stared some more at herself, satisfied with the results. The confusion that was there earlier was now masked by a totally different persona. That's right. She was Misa-chan here. As much as she despised it, Misaki Ayuzawa, the medical student with many dreams and an uncertain future had to be buried deep.

And yet she can't leave. Not yet. His offer, now that her mind was slightly clearer, was dazzling. But she couldn't leave, not when she remembered that she wasn't alone here. She thought of the other women, especially Subaru, Erika and even the prickly Honoka—her comrade-at-arms in this place. And she thought of Satsuki and her genuine care for each of them.

Thinking of them and leaving…the idea was treacherous and left a bad taste in her mouth. Add to the fact that the money—she needed the money…

She clenched her hand. "He wouldn't understand at all."

"You never quit with that habit of yours." Said a familiar voice.

Where it an unfamiliar voice, Misaki would have been startled and angry at being spied on. But she knew that voice; almost immediately, Misaki felt the unpleasant weight drop from her chest; she was already smiling even as she turned towards the speaker standing idly at the doorway. "And what habit is that?"

The young man simply raised his brows at her before easing off the door panel he had been leaning on; he went over to sit on her vanity table. He had shed off his chauffer outfit and is now donning a polo shirt, the first three buttons undone partnered with dark brown slacks. His stylish and unevenly cut black hair was pulled back into a tiny pony; the rest of it curtained around his face. An earring glinted from his left ear, matching the glittering of his dark eyes.

"Talking to yourself. You do that a lot. Hello, Misa." He grinned and kissed her cheek playfully.

"Hello, Aoi," she gave him a once-over and whistled. "You look trim as usual."

"And you're finally wearing the dresses I made especially for you. Of course," he added, pulling her up on her feet. The younger man looked at her appraisingly before giving a satisfied smirk. "You look as fabulous as I expected you to be in this outfit."

"I'm only wearing this because it's already there…and it's cheaper." Upon Aoi's bland expression, she grinned. "Okay, I'm just joking. Yes, this is a really fabulous outfit—"

"—half of the time, you don't know the difference between any of them—"

"—you have a point there, but—"

"Misaki," he drawled, "Let's just skip your unflattering niceties and tell me how you really feel about this dress."

She blinked. "Er. Thank you."

He smiled almost predatorily. "Good enough. Now, aren't you supposed to serve as my company for—" he looked at his watch—"an hour tonight?"

Misaki ogled. "You're my client?"

"Yes. Anything wrong with that?"

"Better and better," she shrugged.

"Now, let's first go to the bar so you can tell me who just put that frown on your face earlier." She hooked her arm over his when he offered and went down to the club area. "Maybe I can get you drunk enough to go home with me."

She scoffed. "Even if Satsuki-neesama is your aunt, you know I can't just up and leave unless…" her eyes widened at the confident glint in Aoi's eyes. "Oh god—don't tell me…you did! You the one who ordered the special! But that's—"

"Expensive. I know," chuckled Aoi, amused when Misaki slapped her arm lightly. "Hey, wouldn't you like one night away from greasy old men?"

"You should save your money instead of throwing it around—"

"I'm not," he said firmly, catching the hand in another half-hearted slap. Looking her in the eye, he said firmly. "I'm not. You're my friend, Misaki-chan, and we haven't seen each other in a while."

Misaki saw the serious look in the younger man's face and sighed. They've been through a lot—Aoi and her. Not to mention she was the one who took Aoi's virginity—for a discounted fee, of course. He used to be infatuated with her but she knew he was past that already. They were just good friends.

With her slim hands, she cupped Aoi's handsome face and tipped it down so she could kiss the base of his chin. By his surprised expression, she knew he didn't expect that at all; she chuckled. "Thank you, Aoi. It's been such a day. I'm glad you could drop by."

With a grin, he gallantly offered his arm, which she gladly took. "Then tell me about it."

* * *

Usui removed his gold-rimmed eyeglasses and looked out of the window. The view of city life sparkling in the midst of the dark night was a relaxing contrast to what he had been reading. He had just finished reading two journals tackling new proposals on the treatment of Duchenne's muscular dystrophy which were, overall, interesting though requiring more studies to back it up. And before that, he had finished reading three chapters from Robbins and Cotran Pathology, that alone equivalent to 150 pages of text.

All of this had taken him only 3 hours.

For a moment, he saw his reflection in the glass, wondered at the bothered expression on his face. It took more than that to stress him out, so why that expression?

The memory of a completely pained face returned to him, and he found himself sighing softly.

"So it all goes back to you, Misaki Ayuzawa." The stack of books she left on the library was on his desk, too. He wondered over his affinity for her.

Unaware to her, he had been watching her in the library; and watching, he wondered at the uniqueness of her existence. Sure, he had seen plenty of student prostitutes before but Misaki was different: an honors student—in the medical field at that—moonlighting as a whore.

_What led her to this?_ He remembered thinking just that. The question remained unanswered. When he had finally approached her, he was overwhelmed by that urge to be her knight—a cliché thought, so unlike him. But it was there, and he couldn't ignore it.

A fleeting '_what if' _gripped him, and he had blurted it out without thinking, without planning. And this too was unlike him. Yes, he admittedly had moments of spontaneity, but not like this…

"_Be my maid instead." _

_Fool_! Usui stood up, full of unease as he mentally cursed, remembering those fateful words which she rejected so vehemently. That offer, he thought, should be tempting. But wrong delivery on his part and a closed mind on hers soured a potentially good business deal.

His gaze fell now on his spacious, mercilessly Spartan living room; nothing adorned the walls, there were no pictures on any surfaces, not even a speck of dirt. Rather than clean, it was an empty, unattached place. There would literally be nothing to clean.

_Business deal…right. Who're you kidding? _

He gave up arguing with himself, knew that it was pointless; he could go on for hours circling around his psyche but he could not find himself giving in to the ridiculousness of his whole situation…yet. The fact that he was interested in her didn't mean that he is going to have sudden romantic idealisms. Returning to his desk, he picked his reading list, unsurprised that he had finished all noted there. He did not mind the assigned reading as he had already finished those books—and many others—months before. When Usui gave up the mindless rebellion, he gradually returned to his passions; returned to the study of medicine with the determination to prep himself for the new semester.

Without thinking, he picked up _Hane's _Neuroanatomy—the one she had been reading in the library.

_I can't be her knight. _This sudden made him frown. It seems like he can't turn away thoughts of her at all. As he browsed through the pages of the book, he noticed a thin bundle of recycled paper, literally sewed at one edge. It was a makeshift notebook, and on its corner was a name…

With a sharp breath, he pulled it out for inspection. It was a summary of diseases, specifically of the upper gastrointestinal tract, all hand-written and complete with their respective etiology, pathophysiology, clinical features and even illustrations which conferred easier comprehension. The hand-writing was neat and but small and cramped, as though she was saving space or had too little paper.

_Obviously the latter, _he thought as he browsed. At the last page, he saw the references she used. She used three books and two _British medical journals_. The fact that she summarized thick chapters from those books into just a few pages is an impressive and arduous feat. There are surely more of these, but how was she able to complete it? Making a reviewer this comprehensive would take hours, and with her work and demanding academic schedule…

"Do you even sleep…Misa-chan?" he mused before carefully tucking the precious notebook back between the pages of the neuroanatomy book. He smiled to himself, suddenly determined.

Usui pulled out his Blackberry and speed-dialed the number of his butler. If he's going to help her, he needed information, and Aoi—in spite of his age—has always been reliable with his information. He frowned when, after successive rings, he was transferred to voicemail.

"_*Beep* Voicemail…duh. I'm obviously not here if you've reached this part. Just leave a message or call later. *Beep*"_

The frown deepened. It was very unlike Aoi to turn in early at all. He called again. After three rings, there was an answer.

"Hey, boss! It's kinda late, ain't it?" said Aoi, airily. There was a slight slur in his voice which predictably told Usui that someone had one too many. From the background noises, he was obviously not in his room either.

"You're drunk."

"Huh? No, of co—urrrghh—"

There was loud crash—the phone must have fallen—Usui instinctively held the his phone away for a moment before shouting into it, suddenly worried. "Hey—Aoi! What happened—Aoi—!"

Someone picked it up and a female voice answered this time. "Hello? Don't worry—I've got him, he's just fainted—oops—okay, help me out here—"

"_What_?"

"Oh—sorry, I'm,"—an unlady-like grunt—"Carrying him off the pavement."

He could hear scuffling sounds and more grunting; if he strained hard enough, he would have head Aoi's moan in the background. The lull allowed him to recover from the sudden worry over his butler; now, the voice on the other line reminded him of _her_. But what are the chances of that anyways?

He listened to her mutter and thought: _Okay. You know you're getting an unhealthy obsession when all girls you hear start to sound like her._

"There! Uh—who'd you say you were again?"

"I didn't. I'm his boss. Who's this?"

"Old friend. Look—" The woman's voice was a mix of exasperation and worry—if that was even possible. "Aoi's obviously unavailable. I'll pass him your message once he's sober…Are you reprimanding him for this?"

"…no."

"Good. Leave it to me—I'm skinning his ass for this."

"Hn. Maybe I should skin yours for letting him get to this state at all."

An indignant sound. "I did not!"

And it was evolving into a strange conversation with a strange woman. _Definitely sounds like her. _He sighed and shook his head. _I'm being stupid._

"Where are you?"

"What? Why'd—"

"I am obviously going to pick him up."

"I'll just drop him home." _Was there…panic?_

"Do you know his address?"

"…no. But—"

"Where are you?"

"…You'd do that? For your butler?"

"I'd do that that a friend."

That seemed to settle her indecision; she rattled off an address and a name of a street. He raised a brow; the location was within the Kabukicho district.

_Huh…_

"There's a ramen vendor just after that alley…I'm bringing Aoi there to sober him up a bit."

"All right." He ended the call, stared at the silent phone for a full minute more before heading out to the parking area.

* * *

**The review button is just a click a way! Your reviews and insights are much, much appreciated!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hello, everyone! Again it has been a very _long _while. There is a very legitimate explanation for that which you will read if you just click up and read my profile page. Suffice to say, things have been busy...**

**Hence, I won't say much except to thank all my wonderful readers for continuously reviewing and reading. You gave me the courage to finish this chapter up. Somehow, I'm on the road back to writing. I hope I manage to update fast enough for you guys, but I'm not really that prolific, so it's hard to just up and finish any material. Anyways, hope you enjoy this installment!**

* * *

**The Maid Turns Clinical!**

**Chapter 4: A Friend of a Friend**

_How long can one person hold a breath? It was a question which seemed to beg testing at this moment._

_Rather, the owner of one insistent warm mouth fervently claiming her own seemed to be doing the testing himself._

_Misaki was dizzy—from lack of air perhaps—but she found that it was an affliction she didn't mind given the situation. She was gradually losing rational thought; whatever her initial intentions, the glimmer seemed to fade. She could only cling to him, her nails digging into his back—it would bruise in the morning she was sure but she refused to think of his hurts. Not when he was responsible for what she is now._

_Random questions popped lazily through the fog._

_When exactly had she wrapped her legs around his torso?_

_When had he lifted her, quashing her body ever closely against him so she could feel the tip of his erection rubbing against her, protected only by that insult of an underwear?_

_More importantly, why didn't she mind it?_

_By the time her back met the downy futon, his weight directly above hers, she was no longer sure when they lost their clothes all together. His mouth released hers, to claim the crook of her neck. She gasped now, for the air, and for the sanity which refused to return to her. The pressure low inside her abdomen was close to explosion—it was lust, she would later realize on retrospect—and the ministrations of his mouth and that external fleshy pressure against her crotch was aggravating it. An involuntary moan came between their ragged breaths—she bit her lower lip, shamed._

_"Say it."_

_Did she hear right?_

_"What?"_

_Was that her voice?_

_"Say," he murmured softly against her breast. "that you want me."_

_The question stunned her; she could only shake her head in refusal._

_He bit her nipple lightly; this time, she was more verbose. "No!"_

_"…No?" he swirled her tongue over that taut pink nipple; it drove her crazy. She clamped her jaws shut in a futile attempt to silence herself but her throat would not cooperate. She instinctively bucked her hip against his groin. Misaki felt him laugh, a deep rumble passing from his chest to hers, as he moved his attention to the neglected breast. "Yes?"_

_She shook her head again—rather, threw her head from side to side, as though to deny the pleasure he was driving into her. But he didn't stop. Instead, she felt his fingers slide into her wet, wet orifice. And stroked._

_In agony and pleasure, her hands flew to the sheets, clutching for dear life. But she refused to speak as her voice would betray her. He moved downwards, his mouth creating a wet path from her breasts down to her abdomen as his fingers continued that maddening motion. The pressure down there was unbearable—in her primal state of mind, her thighs seemed to move up of their own accord, opening herself up even more to him._

_"Misa, Misa," he murmured softly against her vulva. She was surprised at how near his face was to that place that she raised her self by the elbows to look down. She watched as he flattened the thin patch of hair he found there with his tongue; it should have been disgusting, but it only increased her arousal—the pressure was almost unbearable. Their eyes met briefly—brilliant emerald green under the moonlight. "What do you think will happen now?"_

_She was panting in anticipation, she realized and she was torn between fascination and disgust; she could only narrow her eyes defiantly at him. Suddenly, he gripped the back of her thighs and pushed up and out, so that she was further exposed. And before she could protest, his mouth was ravishing her sex._

_She fell from her elbows inelegantly, the onslaught of pleasure was just too much. She covered her face with her hands, embarrassed. His tongue was swirling, pushing down there, laving her. Then when he sucked her nub, she thought she would explode._

_Misaki bucked into an orgasm, screaming._

_"Stop—ahhhh! Don't!"_

_Was it 'stop', 'don't', or 'don't stop'? In another time, he would have teased her. But he didn't. He was too caught up in her. He drank her fluids as they spilled, using his tongue to play with sensitive flesh. His own erection was yearning for release, wanting to plunge inside her. But his needs come later. Usui wanted to worship her, satisfy her, please her—and though he knew he would please her in so many ways by finally entering her, he contented himself with the convulsions of her body, with the expression on her face so torn between ecstasy and guilt._

_"Say it." They both knew what he wanted...needed…to hear._

_"Okay! I—I want—you."_

_He nibbled against the tender flesh. It was too much._

_"Usui!"_

_Yes. He sucked her nub again torturously, his hands steadily gripping her thighs to keep her open. She was just so wet, so needy. She was exploding again. She gripped his hair with both hands, as though her life depended on it; the mere action almost drove him mad. His tongue went deep in her—in-out, in-out, teasing her very sensitive clit to the point of insanity._

_"Yes! YES! USUI! YES!"_

_She came again. But it wasn't enough. When the rhythmic contractions ended, when he was done lapping her juices, he released her thighs and climbed up her body, resting his elbows and forearms on each side of her head. In her dazzled state of mind, his serious face, dizzyingly close, was endearing. Beads of perspiration slid from the side of his forehead to his cheek. She could smell his maleness, his sweat, and even herself on him. It should have disgusted her, but it didn't. Her eyes searched his but she couldn't read the expression on it at all. All she knew was that his breath was warm against her face, and it was not unwelcome. With decision, Misaki reached up, fingers threading through his blonde hair. The surprise in his eyes was expected. He did not stop her when she traced his lips with her thumb—the lips which had actively brought her to a full blown orgasm, twice. No, he was just watching her._

_"I screamed your name," she murmured._

_"I promised I'd make you," he smirked._

_"You made me…come," the word made her blush. "Again. Twice. Not—not counting the alley."_

_"Who's counting?" Yet it pleased him that she acknowledged being pleasured by him._

_"And…and yet you're still," a gulp. "hard."_

_He nuzzled her cheek softly. "I know."_

_"You haven't fucked me yet."_

_A beat. "I know."_

_With both hands, she pulled him down, until his forehead was resting on hers, and their bodies were fully connected, his roaring erection between their bellies. "Why?"_

_He should have just done with it. Then it would be over. She would have no reason to stay then. She would leave. "Why are we doing this?"_

_Usui then kissed her mouth softly, lingeringly, before answering. "I don't know."_

* * *

Long after the call, Misaki stared at the phone on her hand, wondering why the voice at the other end sounded so familiar. Before she could reach any conclusion, the pitiful groan from behind brought her back to the unhappy situation at hand.

"Aoi! Who told you to drink that much, huh?" She shifted their position until she was on fireman's carry mode. She shook her head. _I can't believe I'm actually applying what I learned at the Disaster and Safety Seminar on this situation. _She regarded him.

Earlier in the evening, Aoi was the epitome of trim and gorgeous. But due to an unprecedented meeting, he drowned himself in sorrow. Now, with his shirt all unbuttoned, exposing his sweaty undershirt, hair a mess, vomit-ridden shoes, the Bulgari scent replaced by a mix of alcohol, salt and acid, he only looked very drunk. In an almost affectionate tone, she spoke out loud, more to herself than to her barely conscious companion. "Well, this is kind of disastrous, isn't it? Let's hope your boss doesn't sack you, Aoi."

A graceless grunt was the answer she received and she chuckled before deciding to move forward. They had exited from the back alley, which was also the usual entrance of the staff, and where her bike was parked. Before they had walked out, Satsuki had given her Aoi's dark blue trench coat to cover herself with. Which was rather fortunate as she was wearing only her maid outfit.

Kabuki district is alive mostly at night.

She understood that people delighted in day to day pleasures-in this case, it was night to night. Death or sex, as Freud had reflected. She saw it here, and it was hard to deny anyone of something that was in abundance.

They reached the ramen bar with only a few mishaps. Once there, Misaki propped Aoi unceremoniously onto the stool, where he subsequently fell face forward onto the bar.

The owner, a wrinkly grandpa, greeted her enthusiastically. "Young lady! How can I help you…and is that Aoi-san?" He whistled. "Been a while seen I last saw him."

She smiled at him; she and Aoi were old and favourite customers here. "Yes. He's kinda out of it, you see. We'll have a bowl of beef ramen, for sharing."

"Right-o, Miss."

Misaki looked at the younger man beside her. She smiled at the stray thought. Yes. Man. Isn't that what he had always been harping of before and complaining of? That people around him keep treating him like a boy…and even a girl, for a long time before that. Of course, it was mostly his fault—his love for fashion has left him indulging to even cross-dressing activities other all. Who would take him seriously after that? But the past year, he had not been tramping about much, and he had tried to change some aspects of himself, so that he would seem manlier, older. But it was not enough. At least, not enough to the one he had been trying so hard to impress.

"That she-devil caught you so bad, huh, Aoi?" she said, brushing his hair back with her fingers affectionately. The woman had been at the Love-Love Café earlier—unsurprising as she worked there as well. But did she really have to needle him, taunt him? Aoi didn't need to say anything for Misaki to understand that that woman's mere presence was salt in his wounds. The present train wreck that he is now is testament to that. Misaki sighed. A loud thunk startled her; the owner, Mr. Satoshi had placed a mug of beer before her.

"Thought you looked a bit cold, Miss, and this could do the trick. Homemade brew, and it's on the house."

"Thank you, Satoshi-san," she said warmly.

"No problem, Miss."

She took the mug and sipped tentatively. The beer was warm and flavorful; she sighed in content, feeling herself getting warmer. Again, she settled to think and reminisce.

It has been a year or more since they've first met. At that time, Misaki was still juggling between jobs, sometimes involving construction work. It was better then, she sighed. Though they were down to financial straits, it was still much better than her complicated life now. But then her mother got worse…and she was forced to choose.

She shook her head from those stray thoughts. Regret would do nothing. Instead, Misaki brushed the thick unruly strands off Aoi's damp forehead. And remembered the first time they met.

* * *

_Wasn't it a full moon that night? She remembered feeling grateful for it. The streetlights in their area were yet to be fixed, and even with her judo skills and bravado, she disliked having to walk in the streets in the dark. To say that she was tired was an understatement; as she walked the streets like one of the walking dead, her muscles ached, and if bones could creak, she was sure hers would. One of the employees at the construction site was injured and she volunteered to take his place, never mind that she was just a part-timer and that she had just replaced one of the full-time employees for the night. Why was she dazzled by that little extra money? She still had to go to school and as it was already past midnight, it would mean she had to be there in more or less six hours. _

_And she hadn't slept yet. _

_And she had a reading assignment._

_And an examination, to boot. _

_She was so tired she wanted to cry. _

_There was playground opposite their street, just a walking distance. Feeling bad about herself, she made a quick decision to detour and went there. It was a waste of time, she knew, but she needed this alone time, away from obligations and responsibilities and anything which would remind her of the weight of her small world._

_Which included her home most days now._

_Misaki sighed as she sat on a swing, stretching her sore legs. Since their father left, her mother had been taking care of her and her little sister for the past years. And when she had finally collapsed four years ago, the burden of keeping their family together fell on her shoulders. Since then, she had been juggling part time jobs, anything to keep them from starving. Thankfully, Suzuna did her part as well by doing well in school—since she was a scholar, her school fees were no problem; even with the other bills and her mother's medications to worry about, life was stable, manageable even, until a few months ago when her mom's condition worsened…_

_A frustrated sigh passed her lips. She kicked the ground and struggled for a few moments until she was thrusting back and forth in full swing. _

_Forget for now, she thought, relax. _

_Her eyes wandered to the serene night sky, the moon slightly obscured by drifting clouds. Forget, forget for now, a slow and steady mantra. And she did, for a moment._

_She screwed her eyes shut as the swung furiously, her cheeks rugged from the night her, her hair blown. _

_When she opened her eyes again, there was a girl in white sitting on a far opposite bench._

_Misaki screamed and unthinkingly let released her hold—and sent flying. Thankfully, before she could disastrously hit the ground, she was able to get a moment of balance, managing instead to fall elegantly on one knee with just a minor scrape._

_Shaken by the incident and her own luck, she prepared to bellow threats at the girl who spooked her. "You—"Misaki caught herself squinting. The girl was already walking towards her, hand outstretched. Dark eyes glinted with quiet laughter against ivory skin, pink unpainted lips quirked at the corners. With the long Goldilocks-curls cascading down to a trim waist, and with the empire-cut fluttery white dress, the young stranger had every appearance of a fallen angel. But something wasn't quite right. Misaki hesitantly accepted the hand held out to her, and when the strong grip pulled her to her feet, everything seemed to fall into place._

_Misaki couldn't help it; she stared, mouth agape, surprise and wrath forgotten. "You're a boy."_

_With that, the beautiful "girl" smiled angelically at Misaki. And the voice which answered her was young, melodious but definitely male. "You're a smart one, aren't you? I'm Aoi…Aoi Hyoudou. You better remember my name. It'll be damn famous one day."_

* * *

Famous, huh, Misaki thought now as she affectionately pinched the younger man's flushed cheek. "You really are becoming famous now, in more ways than one."

The beef ramen she ordered was placed in front of her, still steaming. Misaki gratefully thanked the old man. Gingerly, she ladled some of the broth, blew twice and sipped; it was thick with flavour, warming her mouth and insides. She sighed, savouring not only the taste but the peace and quiet of the night. She found herself speaking aloud, more to herself than to the sleeping Aoi."You know, it's been a while since I had a simple night like this—you know, the kind where you go out with a friend, get wasted, share ramen."

A snore was his response and she giggled. "You didn't have to go, you know?" _Why did you leave, Aoi?_

And yet she knew the answer too.

"Now, isn't that just sweet? _Sickly_ sweet." Misaki's eyes immediately clouded at the familiar melodious voice, heavily laced with sarcasm. She didn't need to turn to verify the owner of that voice, and yet Misaki gave the woman her full attention. She was draped with a heavy mink coat, open down to the midriff to reveal a royal blue embroidered corset which greatly accentuated her natural pallor and the dyed golden hair which carefully framed her face. Her full brown eyes enhanced further by the mascara and silver eyeliner would have been deceivingly innocent were it not for the cold twist on her full blood red lips.

Honoka was indeed a great beauty.

She was also a great she-devil.

"What are you doing here?" Misaki asked, point-blank.

Her question was unanswered. Honoka's eyes drifted to the young man sleeping soundly on the wooden bar. She raised an elegant brow, noting Misaki's fingers still entwined on the dark locks. Misaki stilled her movements but did not remove her hand.

"If you're here to apologize, you better do that when he's sober enough to hear you."

"I've got nothing to apologize for—"

"Then why are you here?" Misaki cut off, suddenly angry. "If you came here to taunt him further, I won't let you. Can't you see he's a wreck? We get your point—you can drive him to a mess, but I won't let you next time. If he even attempts something stupid, I'll be there to wring his neck."

"Your concern is touching," The blonde's voice was soft, but it chilled Misaki nevertheless. "But what's between us is definitely none of your business, _girl_."

"You—"

"Bitch?" she laughed lightly, unconcerned. "Aren't we all?" She glided forward, red stilettoes clicking, and reached for the boy's head.

"Don't touch him!"

The she-devil's eyes flashed. "_Or what?_"

Hesitantly, Misaki pulled her hand away. To Misaki's surprise, Honoka carefully pulled Aoi's head from the bar and rested it onto her bosom. Like a rooting infant, Aoi snuggled deep into her coat, cheek pressed earnestly onto her flesh. The triumphant expression on her face would have sickened Misaki had she not been too surprised with the turn of events.

"But…but you were so _cruel_."

"Don't be a fool," she said sharply. "Cruel? Didn't you let him fuck you before, knowing full well he had a boyish _crush_ on you?"

A blush spread on Misaki's face. Honoka continued, fingers caressing the young man's hair. "He may love me, but he knows what I am—_what we are_. Between us, there are no illusions. I'm not _that_ cruel."

What was this? For some reason, the expression on the blonde devil's face seemed to melt into something akin to tenderness. Realization dawned. "You—you're _in love_ with him aren't you?"

"Love…" she murmured more to herself. "Such an easy and complicated word, no? Again, that is none of your business—girl."

Misaki turned back to the back, finished her flask of beer in one long drought. "Complicated, huh."

There was no response. From her peripheral vision, she could see that Honoka had settled herself on a stool beside Aoi's and his head was now on her lap. The woman ordered a flask of sake and fried dumplings with miso soup. In silence, Misaki proceeded to eat her beef ramen; it was all hers now.

"By the way—your sister called Satsuki…that's really why I came here."

Her eyes widened. Since Misaki had no cellphone, she instructed her younger sister to contact Satsuki only during emergency cases. "What did she say?"

Honoka shrugged. "Even Satsuki-san couldn't understand—she just said to tell you one word, 'Code'—before hanging up."

Misaki's world went very still. Code meant only one thing. _Oh God, no._

* * *

With the windows rolled down, the cool night breeze settled Usui to a sea of calm. For now, his thoughts were away from a certain woman and her blatant refusal. His thoughts were directed to a time before her. Had it truly been only two years? Two years when he began medical school. And a year after that, he quit. Six months later he met her, and everything changed...and he was back now.

Time was a deception—sometimes too slow when you wanted it to go faster, often too fast when you're willing it to go slower. He remembered his life as a child, one which began carefree until the confusion of being an illegitimate son was revealed to him. During those young years, he didn't understand why he would wake up to see his beautiful Japanese mother crying whilst clutching their father's portrait close to her breast. He had often questioned why his father was frequently away, why he rarely visited, why other children lived with both their parents. He had wondered over the occasionally grim expression that wandered on his old man's face, the lines of worry making him older than he should be.

By the time Usui was seven years old, he suspected. A few months into his eight year of life, his father unexpectedly died in a car accident…and hell began.

His fingers unconsciously clutched at the steering wheel. Usui took a deep breath. Those dark days, Usui, so young, sought solace in her mother's arms. But those hands seemed to have lost their life, their warmth when his father was lost to the grave. And she feared the silence—silence meant that her love was no longer there to laugh with them , talk with them, live with them—so she tore it apart with incoherent words and enraged cries, unseeing, uncaring in spite of the young witness. He remembered the hungry look she would give him, her tender, almost painful caresses, and he knew instantly that he was no longer her son but a living image of the father.

His poor mother, so ravaged by grief and death, had been driven to madness.

Of course, in her lost monologue, he learned of the truth—learned of the other family, the real family. Learned of a half-brother.

A month into his father's death, she overdosed with sleeping pills and followed him to the other world. He remembered it clearly. Waking up in his own room—he had learned to sleep separately from her, with door locked—and feeling strange at the quiet that had greeted him when he went out. His first thought was of mother, and he had run to her room, small feet slapping on the mahogany floors. The peaceful smile on her ashen face broke him.

Thus, he was orphaned, at eight years old. He was alone, with a home but without a family. In retrospect, he would have been shuttled away by social workers had it not been for seemingly divine intervention. Or rather, familial intervention.

Usui was brought out of his reverie when he recognized the street the woman on the phone had told him about. That loud woman who had unabashedly argued with him as though they were old acquaintances.

She really did sound like Misaki.

He shook his head. _Now, I'm thinking like an idiot. _

There was a small ramen bar at a dim-lit corner of the street. He parked his car a few steps ahead of it and stepped down from his ride. Something like anticipation was building up in him. A foolish part of him told him that voice was really hers. But the greater, far more rational side of him knew it was too ironic to be true. Things like that only happened in _shoujo _manga—not that he was a fan, but Aoi kept a stack in his place—and this wasn't a _shoujo_ manga. This was real life he was talking about. Reality doesn't swing you that way.

It didn't matter that he happened to be studying in the same school as her. It doesn't matter that she was only the woman who had literally rattled his world six months ago. It didn't matter that memories of her sweet orgasmic cries, claws almost drawing blood on his back, their bodies entwined in a primitive dance haunted his dreams.

It didn't matter.

Anyways, if it was really Misaki, what was she doing with the boy? Was Aoi a client? The idea made him clench his teeth.

_And again, I'm being stupid. This isn't like me at all._

There was only one way to find out. He reached the bar, lifted the curtain, and went inside.

* * *

There was no escape, not even in alcohol-induced stupor. Chocolate-brown eyes glared at Aoi, seeming to be just inches away from him, eyes full of malice and disgust. Her cold voice was dizzyingly around him, echoing—_you're just a boy, aren't you? You'll never change._

Why—why can't you just see me? He cried desperately to the dark void, to her. But she turned, those carefully dyed blond locks swishing, away from him.

Can't you see? Don't you see, Honoka?

In his mind, she was in another man's arms—another man to seduce, to caress, to torture.

Can't you see? I've loved you all this time.

Laughter.

_Bullshit. _His heart froze. Familiar words, chasing him even in slumber.

_Bullshit. You're just a boy, aren't you, Aoi?_

Aoi climbed out of his stupor like a drowned man, his hands clutching onto soft, downy fabric. He groaned.

Where am I? He thought dizzyingly. What the fuck happened?

Apparently, his mouth seemed to be loosely articulating his thoughts as a cool female voice answered him. "Hush. You're in the ramen bar. You're drunk."

His world was still swimming. Even the dim lights were too much for his eyes. His right hand groped for the something to keep him steady and found something wooden—solid, yes. He tried to push himself up, his left hand now fumbling below him, but there was only more of that downy softness.

Suddenly, a pair of small hands held his shoulders, guiding him to a straighter position. Now he realized why he was so damn uncomfortable—he had been sitting on another stool, but his body was bent sideways into someone's lap. Both hands found the stability of the counter and he sighed. His world was still spinning but he nevertheless turned his head to his apparent helper.

Sitting serenely beside her, in her perfectly blonde glory.

_Honoka._

Aoi's world spun back into clarity. As though hearing his thoughts, she turned her head lightly, those tawny eyes scrutinizing him. Had he not been too drunk, he would have squirmed under her gaze. As it was, he could somehow envision what she was seeing—hair dishevelled and sticky with sweat and vomit, expression dull with alcohol, breath reeking, clothes dirty and smelly. This was the exact picture of him he would never want her to see, primarily because he prided cleanliness and he had never driven himself to drink before, until now. Now she had seen it. And somehow, whether it was by booze or arrogance, he didn't give a damn.

Her mouth—sultry, addictive—twisted into something he could not decipher. "A boy and his drink should never, ever mix."

"Where's Misaki?"

A single brow twisted up. "Miss her already?" Before he could growl in response, she added. "She left you with me—said there's something she had to take care of."

A few memories floated back in his head—of him being carelessly drunk, being dragged by Misaki, then vomiting onto the streets. He groaned. _What a mess._

"What…are you doing here?" he managed.

She shrugged and lifted a shot glass. He was vaguely aware of a steaming cup of miso soup and a bottle of half-empty sake between them. "Just enjoying the night. Unlike you."

He would have rolled his eyes if he could. "I have been enjoying my night."

"You don't look like you're enjoying it now," she countered swiftly.

Aoi squinted at her, found that it hurt his eyes and gave up. Instead, he sighed wearily, scrunched his nose at his own stench. His insides felt literally empty, and he knew he must have emptied his entire stomach contents somewhere. As though sensing this, Honoka pushed the miso soup in his direction.

"You'll need that to hydrate some."

A cup of water was placed before him by Satoshi-san who knew when to make himself quiet and scarce. Aoi took it gratefully, gargled with it and gracelessly spat on the sidewalk. Feeling much better, he lifted the proffered soup and, with muttered thanks sipped the gods, what a heavenly miso soup that old man created!

"Thanks for this."

"You're welcome."

And yet part of him still felt resent. He shook his head wearily. "Earlier at the café. You were such a damn bitch."

She didn't even wince. "I've been told. I still am."

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what, exactly?"

* * *

_Instead of the usual mode of entertainment employed at the place, they decided to spend the night watching an Indian comedy "3 Idiots"—complete with Japanese subtitles—on the widescreen television, while splitting a large plate of onion rings and vintage red wine between them. Since he had already seen the movie before, Aoi told Misaki to go ahead in the middle-thirds of it while he left to go to the washroom and retrieve more refreshments. _

_Aoi ordered another bottle at the bar—this time champagne—while marvelling at the scene her auntie created. Unlike the usual club scenes—rock band playing, wild crowd, barely clothed women on the stage, prism strobe light illuminating gyrating bodies—jazz music floated in the air, lead by their very own Erika, her husky singing voice mesmerizing. Yellow lighted elaborate chandeliers provided light; the classic private C-shaped booths held the clients with their individual choice of menu—consisting of food, booze and women. For risk-takers, there was a gambling room on one end. At the very middle of the place was the cocktail bar; Satsuki often sat there with the bartender and from time to time would flit from table to table like a social butterfly. Of course, on the far side was a wide staircase leading to private rooms for clients where the more pleasurable transactions where completed, the rooms replete with their choice of gadgets, items and toys. In spite of the establishment, it had a picture of glamor and class, and Aoi couldn't help but feel proud of his Aunt. He knew though, that this wasn't exactly her dream—she had always said that one day, when money was no longer an issue, that she would restart the business from scratch; this, she said, was not the kind of life she wanted for her girls. _

_He thanked the bartender, Makoto, when the chilled bottle was brought to him. Just when he was making his way up the staircase, he heard a familiar distinct laugh. There was naturally no way he could ignore it. He climbed up further the stairs, slowly, stealthier, and reaching the floor, felt his gut fall through it with the scene in the hallway. _

_Honoka. With a client._

_It sounded simple, but it wretched him. It has been what—two months?—since he saw her last, and seeing her like this—specifically seeing her, face up, her long swan-like neck stretched up and being devoured by some middle-aged fuck while squeezing her breasts—made him blanch. He was panting in anger, and yet even then, the primitive male in him was turned on by the crooning sounds she was making, by the lustful expression on her face. A snarl passed on his face, disgusted with himself, and fisted his hands. He couldn't turn away, transfixed. He knew this was all a game to her, all pretend, but her natural flair in seduction and sex made it hard to believe it was all an act. After all, he knew—she enjoyed these trysts themselves, enjoyed the power of making men keel at her feet. Honoka was entirely a she-devil, and she knew it. _

_Feeling the intruder, the she-devil's glazed eyes wandered in his direction. For a moment, she seemed surprised; then the surprise melted into an incredibly low purr. Still looking at him, she drew her client's shaking hand into her underwear. The unmistakable bulge in the man's pants seemed to twitch when she made a guttural moan. "Master, I'm sooo wet. So dirty."_

"_Le-let me clean it for you, then." Panted the man._

"_Lick it clean?"_

_The man gasped at the idea, the hands on her breast grasping tighter. Honoka made to fumble for the nearest door. _

_And they disappeared into the room, but not before sending Aoi a smirk and a wink. With the door shut, he felt numb even with the raging hard-on he knew she saw. He hated himself, wanted to hate her, but couldn't. A distant part of him even admired how well the blue maid outfit he designed fitted her lithe body. He breathed deep, clearing his mind of her, felt himself grow calm._

_Weakly, he trudged back to the room where Misaki was waiting. His friend immediately noted his dejected manner and understood. She took the champagne bottle from him, placed it on the table. She sat him on the bed and went to the mini-ref to methodically empty it of complementary whiskey and gin. Misaki handed him a glass full to the brim._

"_Drink up."_

_He did._

* * *

Aoi couldn't bring himself to answer her, knowing it would incriminate him. He was already vulnerable as it is. When she spoke, her voice remained cool. "I do my job, and do it well. How I do it is definitely none of your business."

"Is having a damn show in the corridor for me to watch part of it?" he said bitterly.

"You didn't have to stay for it, did you?" she laughed at him lightly. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it. At least your head _down there_ didn't seem to mind earlier."

"Shut up!"

"Did you—what's that popular term nowadays, oh!—'fap' when we left, imagining naughty things like a school boy."

She laughed. He turned away from her, dejectedly. "I guess part of me wanted to," he began honestly. "But I didn't. Couldn't."

The rawness in his voice made her tilt her head, her eyes losing some of the amusement. "Too young to lose your libido."

"Please, stop. You know why."

Relentless, she ploughed further. "So you prefer drowning in a drinking binge, eh? Probably topped it with Misa's services."

His eyes flashed. "Don't you dare imply—"

"Imply? I don't need to imply. You already fucked her after all, didn't you? You told me yourself."

Aoi shook his head, shamed. "You know it's not like that."

"Then what exactly is it like?"

He gaped, face flushed with hopelessness and anger. _I can't win with her._

"And as for earlier—again, I don't need to defend myself. My job is my job. If you happened to see that, I don't give a fuck. Not with what your think or feel regarding the matter. You're—what, eighteen years old?—you should know better."

He finished the soup, slammed the cup on the surface, almost cracking it, feeling somewhat invigorated in spite of everything. "I don't need your damn advice, okay?"

"You should listen to your elders, _boy._"

Aoi hissed. She knew how much he hated being called that. "Six years doesn't make you my 'elder', Honoka."

He didn't see her still when he said her name out loud. Offhandedly, he said. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought you were scolding me."

She toyed with her drink before emptying it. "And if I were?"

Surprised, he looked at her, really looked, this time not caring if it hurt his eyes. Honoka's gaze was not on him but on somewhere far away. She seemed…annoyed, and this was rare; was it not her policy never to show her true feelings to anyone? On closer inspection, her tinted cheeks seemed flushed to her ears and neck. The sake must be starting to affect her, which would explain why her defences were weaker tonight.

_Weaker my ass._

He grunted in response to her inquiry. "If you were…that meant you _cared_."

There was a short interval of silence, broken by a snicker of laughter. To both their surprises, it was Aoi laughing. Her full attention was brought back to him. "Have you gone stupid?"

"No—God, no. I'm just fucking drunk. Just so funny. You—caring? For anyone? For me? That's just—just—"

_Bullshit._

The ceramic shot glass connected with the wood surface resoundingly. A chair was scraped back, and Aoi's laughter was cut off when his head was yanked back by the hair without warning. The shooting pain made him wince, but before he could swear, he found himself staring straight into her fiery bright brown eyes. But what he saw was not just anger—there was frustration, regret and—

_God, I hope to God it's something more. _

He was suddenly hyperaware of the proximity of their bodies, of her alcohol-stained breath mixing with his own, her face mere inches above her. The earlier conversation didn't seem to exist; the far former hallway scene was miles away. _In vino veritas_, they say, and the emotions inside him were truer than anything he'd ever felt before. He couldn't resist. Whether by bravery or sheer recklessness, he lost his aloof and grasped her free hand, traced his mouth on her pulse, then her palm, into hot fervent kisses, like a man under hypnosis.

The slap he had been expecting didn't come; instead, she slowly released her grip on his hair and placed her hand his cheek. Feverishly, Aoi also grabbed that hand and alternately applied his mouth on both her palms as though he were a man given his last boon.

He was not a prayerful man, and yet he was praying.

_Oh God, let this not be the last time._

He wondered what was on her mind as he could no longer read her expression.

_Can't you see what you're doing to me, Honoka?_

"Aoi, look at me."

The way she said his name made him shudder. He raised his head, expecting scorn but he was surprised once again when there was none. He was even more surprised when she tenderly caressed his damp locks before resting them on his shoulders. He held his breath when she pressed her blood red lips against his temple. By the time her mouth was by her ear, his heart was close to explosion.

"You've changed."

He breathed her heady scent. "Yes."

"You're no longer my boy." There was a tinge of regret there now.

His Adam's apple bobbed as a groan passed his lips. "Not anymore, no. But I can still be your man, Honoka. If you let me."

"I can't give you what you want."

_How can I make you understand? _

"You're all that I want."

Her fingers on his shoulders tightened. What he would give just to read her mind at this instant! But mindreading was made for fiction. In real life, either freely voiced deliberation or inquiry into another person's thoughts would provide insight. But waiting for her to speak would be moot; she would never say what was on her mind. Neither did he have the strength to ask. Not when he knew she would never answer.

They held onto each other like that for a few more minutes. And broke apart when someone cleared his voice. Aoi looked up and winced.

"Boss?"

* * *

There were few instances where Usui was lost for words, and this happened to be one of them. He felt exceedingly embarrassed, knowing he had just walked into a very intimate moment not meant for anyone's eyes. Somehow, he managed to school his expression and voice into nonchalance. "Aoi. Glad to see you're about."

"What're you doing here?" were the chauffeur's first words to him.

"Came to pick you up, of course," he answered, brows raised. "I called earlier and your companion," he nodded towards the female blonde's direction. "Answered it, telling the coordinates."

Blonde, yes. Not black hair. And the face was definitely not _hers. _Her sultry expression and clothing told him she was no ordinary girl-next-door. Usui was not sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He settled for the former.

Aoi looked at the woman quizzically who only shrugged.

"Care to introduce us, Aoi?" said the blonde.

"Oh, yeah. Honoka, that's my boss and friend, Usui Takumi. Boss, this is…Honoka, my—my…" Confusion settled on his face, and Usui frowned, wondering over his confident chauffeur's tongue-tie.

"…girlfriend?" Honoka supplied.

Aoi's face was blank for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by an incredibly dazzling smile. "Yeah. Honoka's my girlfriend."

Neither moved from their place and it seemed that their visitor was forgotten. Usui didn't miss the way the younger man pull her waist closer to him, didn't miss the tender expression on her face. Again, a very private moment. Usui cleared his throat again.

"Well, since you guys are looking…great…I better leave you lovebirds," Then, suddenly annoyed with the woman, he spoke to her. "You should have told me you're on a date, you know. That way, I wouldn't have rushed here to pick him up."

Honoka turned to Usui, nose turned up haughtily. "I wasn't the one you were talking to."

At that, the blonde male frowned again. Come to think of it, she didn't sound like the one on the phone…

"Oh, yeah. That must've been Misaki."

If his heart could go on standstill, it would have. Aoi innocently continued. "What did she say earlier, Honoka?"

The woman shrugged. "Nothing. Just ran when I told her the message from Satsuki. Must be an emergency."

Suddenly concerned, Aoi frowned. "Think she's okay?"

"We'll know tomorrow."

"But—"

"Excuse me," said Usui with incredible calm. "Who _exactly_ was I talking to on the phone earlier?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry bout that," quipped Aoi. "Misaki. I never introduced her to you before, eh?"

_Breathe. _

"What about her?" he replied almost faintly.

"Ayuzawa Misaki—she's my best friend."

* * *

And I leave it at that! Super sorry for that. I don't wanna die yet, but don't worry! I hope I can upload the next chapter sooner. Will try though. Meanwhile, please leave your insights by clicking the review button.

I'm not really sure how you'll take the Aoi/Honoka pairing. It just kept niggling at me before, and I thought, why not? So there. I know their reactions are kinda OOC, but then again, this is a different world and different situation, with all of them older, more mature. Hence, I experimented on the what-ifs. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this regardless.

Review, please! One-click-away! Teehee.


	6. Chapter 5

**This update came faster than the previous ones, whew. As I said before, it's really harder to write now but I'm trying to make time for it. Let's just say this is my belated happy birthday gift to one of my reviewers (Who's known only as "user"...probably too lazy to log-in eh? I understand...I'm like that as well). Anyways, the flow of my thoughts are better these days. **_  
_

**Thank you very much for those reviews! I feel happy that people are still reading this in spite of my slowness. So, without further delay, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. **

* * *

**The Maid Turns Clinical!**

**Chapter 5: Steps**

_What goes from here? _

_Bodies close, with Usui right above her, his elbows trapping her head, her arms around his neck, that roaring erection between them, Misaki never felt so thoroughly lost in her life. She tried searching his eyes and was not able to read anything there. Which was no wonder; didn't he himself admit that he didn't know what was going on anymore? There had been no trace of insincerity on his expression or voice when he said that, and the fact that there was hesitation here in spite of his being poised over her meant that those words were true. What were they doing then? And what do they do now?_

_There's no other option but to push forward. Isn't that the whole deal? _Isn't that what you wanted? What do you call this mess?

_Intimacy._

_The word brought a slight tremble to her form. And yet there was no other word for what has been happening all along. Here was the bold and fearless Ayuzawa Misaki, known man-hater, intimately lying in bed with a complete blonde-god of a stranger._

_Stranger. Yes. And yet so far, everything that has been going on between them, including his attitude towards her is nothing that a stranger would be._

_What goes from here?_

_As though sensing her sudden awkwardness, the male slowly lowered himself on the space beside her with a grunt, one hand placed above her flat abdomen, left leg still wrapped over her lower body so that his member was now on her left hip. It stirred her in ways she didn't understand. She turned her head and found his gaze still directed at her. There was a somber expression on his face._

_"Are you…okay?"_

_Usui's eyes widened a fraction…and he struggled not to laugh. Here was the girl that he picked up in a dark alley, a virgin who wanted to be desperately fucked and who he promised to fuck; a girl foolish enough to come with him not knowing who he even was—and now she's asking if he's okay. _

As though I were the virgin here.

_"I think I'm the one who's supposed to ask that question."_

_This time, it was her turn to frown. "Well, are you? Okay, I mean?"_

_He sighed. "Yeah. You?"_

_"I'm…I'm okay, I guess," she paused. "What are you thinking?"_

_Usui shook his head. "Again—what are you thinking?"_

_Her frown deepened. "Am I not allowed to ask questions now?"_

_This time, he did laugh, earning him a scowl. "Now what's that about?"_

_"Nothing, nothing," he answered. "It's just—you're cute, Misa."_

_She flushed. "What—where did that come from?!"_

_"Those are just my personal thoughts."_

_Misaki ground her teeth. What an exasperating man. "Now you're making fun of me."_

_He nudged his hip slightly, his erection teasing her skin further. "Does that look like something that's making fun of you?"_

_The redness on her face spread further to her ears, neck, chest. He noted, idly, that her pink nipples, so earlier ravished, were becoming taut again._

_Embarrassed, Misaki weakly slapped his arm. "You—you pervert!"_

_"Takes one to know one."_

_A frustrated sound wormed its way from her mouth. He grinned. "Like I said. Cute."_

_Before she could give a more violent response, Usui abruptly sat and moved away from the bed. With the weight of his limbs gone, she found she could move again. But instead of relief, she felt…neglected? He stood there, naked, his back to her, the dim light from outside illuminating the beads of sweat on his pale skin, his blonde hair almost white. She found herself dry-mouthed at wonderful curve of his spine, the firm muscles of his back, his taut buttocks; saw the red marks marring his back and remembered how fiercely she had clung to him. Her heart was hammering in her chest; she felt anxious, warm, giddy, butterflies in her stomach. Then it dawned on her; she didn't want him to go._

_"Where are you going?" she blurted before she could stop herself. Did she sound too desperate?_

_He tilted his head at her, eyeing her lazily. His wandering gaze made her flush yet again, and she pulled some sheets to cover her breasts and other parts. He chuckled. "Just…gonna take care of some business."_

_Business…what? She thought confusedly, but he was already gone, disappearing behind a door a few steps from the bed. Misaki sighed, realizing that the business was just some call of nature. With that, she fell back on the fluffy bed, enjoying the small luxury. With him away for now, she gathered her thoughts. Her mind rewound everything._

_She needed money, badly. Her mother, who had a chronic heart problem, collapsed at home and was rushed to the local hospital a week ago. Suzuna was fortunately there to witness it and had been the one to call the ambulance. Misaki was at one of her tutoring jobs when she was informed of the accident. By the time she arrived the emergency room, her mother had already been resuscitated and intubated. She remembered the fear clutching at her heart, stoppering even her tear glands; remembered how Suzuna cried endlessly into her arms, as though her torrential tears could be enough for the both of them. The team of doctors in charge of her mother showed and explained to them the X-ray, CT-scan, and 2D echo findings, counselling them on their options. As calmly as she could, she asked them only to do the best that they can. Once stable, their mother was later transferred to the Cardiovascular Critical Care Unit. Their mother had woken up after a day in the CCU and Misaki tried to reassure her, saying that they would extubate her once they stabilized her blood pressure. What she couldn't say was that her mother suffered from a myocardial infarction__—a heart attack__—_aggravating her mitral valve stenosis; that even with the expensive thrombolytic treatment, there were no guarantees of survival unless valve replacement was done. The hospital stay itself was far more than they could afford; surgery, more so. 

_A week had passed and the expenses were mounting almost exponentially by the day. Ayuzama Minako was still gradually being weaned off the ventilator and Misaki already feared for nosocomial infections which may further complicate her mother's condition and lengthen her stay. Since visitation was limited, they were able to see their mother only a few times and they took turns in their daily vigil outside of the unit. Each day they say their mother, they could see that she was growing stronger, in spite of her unnaturally pale countenance. Yet it didn't change the fact that she was still there._

_The combined salaries of her three night jobs was just enough to sustain their daily living but it absolutely fell short of even a quarter of the present hospital bills. Even if Suzuna found a job as well, that would only chip in a very small fee. They had no other living relatives to ask help from. None of them even had health insurance._

_On the eighth CCU stay, just a few hours of being weaned to a T-piece, Minako began coughing up blood with signs of desaturation. And she was hooked again to a mechanical ventilator. The resident pulmonologist later informed them that their mother's sputum smear was tuberculosis positive. This time, her mother was transferred to the intensive care unit, and simultaneously started on the anti-TB medications. Life itself, it seemed, was against her mother's recovery._

_That was when Misaki decided._

_Yet, here I am…enjoying myself._

_Misaki started at this sudden thought. Since their father left them, she had never really had the time to enjoy; later as an adult, she was simply the family's breadwinner and protector. There was no time to enjoy her youth and womanhood. And here she was now. This development though truly unexpected was not, she realized, truly unwelcome. Usui was giving her a chance to be one. She felt alternately shamed, and somewhat grateful._

_And selfish._

_The woman closed her eyes. I'm becoming a prostitute for my family. Can't I have just this one day—just this day? To lose my virginity to someone…someone…_

_Her eyes opened dreamily, looking at the bathroom door._

_Someone special._

_Misaki sighed; she was starting to get melancholy and decided to push this aside, live these moments instead. Where was Usui? She wound the sheets around her willowy frame and walked toward the bathroom door. With a frown, she realized it was slightly ajar. What was taking him so long?_

_Could he have passed out or just…died…in there?_

_Silly thoughts, she chastised. And yet she was slightly worried. How long does one take to pee or defecate anyways? Certainly not this long._

_A low groan from inside the bathroom spurred her into action. She immediately pushed the door open—and her hand flew to her mouth._

_The bathroom was wide, bright and elegant. There was a large tub with gold-plated knobs at the far end, and even piles of towels and bathrobes on the shelves. But that was not what surprised her. It was her blonde stranger. Sweat glistened on his body and he was panting, one hand on the tiled walls as though to steady himself, the other steadily jerking his hard length. The expression on his face when she abruptly entered was that of arousal and embarrassment._

_Understatement. He looks horrified._

_Usui was masturbating._

_So this is what it feels to be caught like this, he thought as Misaki stood there, face flaming, hand still on her mouth._

_Fucking lock the door next time, Takumi._

_Never in his life had Usui been more mortified...and even more aroused. The object of his fantasies was standing there, stock still, her wavy hair tumbled, eyes wide, the sheets on her body almost slipping off her. Misa looked simply…cute. And skanky. In his mind, he was already tearing the sheets away from her, already winding her legs around him, already fucking her naked against the cold tiles._

_When she finally found her voice, it managed to come out steady. "This—this was…is…your business?"_

_Slowly, Usui released his member, which seemed to still more life of its own now after the brief fantasy. Apparently, there was still no relief in sight. He sighed, trying to be as nonchalant as he can in spite of the persistent almost painful throbbing. "Yes. You can, uh, close the door now."_

_She didn't move. The embarrassment was beginning to wear off her, gradually replaced with curiosity…and something else. "If you're having such a hard time earlier, why didn't you just fuck me back there?"_

_Usui sighed again, getting slightly impatient. "This is hardly a time for interrogation, is it?"_

_"Why?"_

_He clenched his jaw. The defiant expression on her face was only turning him on and on. Now, he wanted nothing more than really fuck her—missionary, doggy, wheelbarrow—until she screamed. And yet…_

_"No."_

_"Why?" Her voice was beginning to resemble that of a petulant child's._

_He would have been amused had the situation been different. Deciding that the truth would make her leave faster—hence, allowing him to resume his previous occupation—he replied. "Didn't I say earlier? I wanted this to be special…my needs will come later."_

_Her hand fell from her mouth, revealing a small "o". Her pink bruised mouth that—_

_Usui stifled a groan. He really should stop thinking about her like that. He turned his head away, interesting himself on the mosaic pattern of the tiles instead, hoping that this was cue enough for her to leave the bathroom. When he heard the door close, he released a pent-up moan. What am I doing? What the fuck is happening?_

_What the fuck is she doing to me?_

_He almost yelped when a small hand came into his line of vision; he stumbled back and fell inelegantly on his rump._

_Misa was towering over him, the hem of the sheets draping his ankles. Eyes steady on him, she slowly kneeled in front of him._

_"Let me help you with that."_

_Before he could protest, her small but calloused hand closed around his throbbing member. A white line of electricity shot through his entire system, and he gasped, back straightening against the wall. There was a determined expression on her tomato-red face. The scene which unfolded before him next was arresting. Misa slowly began jerking him, shooting an insanely wonderful sensation. His breathing came out harsh, and he silently began thanking all the gods. His hands went to her face, pulling her towards him in a violent kiss. She responded fully—her tongue dancing with newly learned motions, all the while, her hand continued pumping, faster and faster. When they pulled up for air, her eyes were hazy with arousal; the sheets around her had fallen, stripping her yet again. Even without looking, he knew that the space between her legs was dripping. She began trailing small bites from his neck, down to his jaw, clavicle, sucking onto one nipple, earning another gasp. Usui let her do as she wanted, understanding that she was slowly discovering the male species in him. He could only watch then when, she finally reached his penis._

_She stared at it momentarily before kissing the tip tenderly. And grazed her teeth on the shaft. His legs moved almost involuntarily to give her space, hip thrusting. She bent forward and swallowed his balls, swirling her tongue. Wanting for touch, he massaged her small breasts, squeezing the pebble-like nipples. She moaned at his ministrations, and concentrated again at the shaft, licking the pearly precum. The hypnotic movement of her tongue on the tip was an indescribable sensation. When she finally took it all in her mouth, he suddenly gripped the back of her head, his guttural moan echoing in the bathroom._

_He was a virgin all over again._

_At first, she seemed to be having a hard time putting it all in. But Misaki soon discovered that she could suppress her gag reflex, enough to sheath him all up to the hilt. His deep-throated grunts and tight grip only encouraged her; she never thought she could have this kind of power over him. Gripping on to his hips for support, she bobbed her head rhythmically. When she sucked him like a teat, he stiffened with a shout; it was too late for her to pull out, and so he came, spilling everything into her throat and mouth._

_Not bad, she thought, licking her mouth. She peered up at Usui's flushed and sated face, eyes closed, a few drops of sweat glistening on his lashes. For a moment, he didn't speak. When he finally blinked at her, the first thing that he noted was defiant and pleased expression on her face, in spite of the milky line of cum forming an unsteady line from the corner of her mouth to her chin._

_Usui chuckled. "Incredible."_

_Not really knowing what to say, she grinned back. "Thank you, I guess."_

_Absently, he wiped the remains on the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. "You…really didn't have to do that, you know."_

_"It's okay," she made herself comfortable between his legs, flattening her palms over his thighs. "'Sides, I read that…cum…is nutritious so it's probably okay."_

_He stared again and snorted. "Probably for sperm."_

_When she grinned, Usui absently pulled her to him, libido sated for now. For a moment, she stiffened but relaxed when he nuzzled her face, her neck. Amazing how she could blow his mind away but could still shy away from a simple embrace._

_What a woman you are._

_The silence was comfort._

* * *

xxx

Slightly calmer but still wary, Misaki approached the nurse's station to make inquiries; it was way past visitation hours after all and she wasn't allowed to go straight to any room. The head nurse was sitting on a swivelling desk, seemingly intent on reviewing medications with one of the pharmacists. "Excuse me, I'm—"

"Onee-san!"

Her heart jumped at her throat at the urgency of the call. The young woman swung around just in time to catch her sister's fierce embrace. Tears were streaming down Suzuna's face, and Misaki's fears immediately resurfaced, three-fold. Taking hold of the young girl at the shoulders, she spoke urgently. "Suzu—what happened? Where's—" the question seemed to get stuck on her throat, afraid of the answer. "Where's ma?"

The young girl looked up to meet her desperate gaze, doe-eyes red and frightened. "I—I don't really understand much, but—but Dr. Hosaka just called our house saying Mama collapsed at the gardens—and when I came here, I saw them pumping her chest…and someone was putting those—those lines…"

"The IV line," Misaki's calm voice didn't match the rising dread bubbling at her throat.

"—and that—that tube down her throat."

The medical student closed her eyes, willing for the facts to go away but what happened was clear enough. Her mother had a cardiac arrest. Why now? She thought in agony. Wasn't everything going well? Hadn't the doctors been aggressive with her cardiac rehabilitation? They were prepping her, making her physically strong enough while undergoing the last month of the antituberculosis drugs, so that she would be fit for surgery. The last time Misaki saw her, she was well enough to go gardening…

_And how many days ago was that? _Guilt ate at her but she refused to give in to tears. Crying would accomplish nothing. And, looking down at the presently shaken mess of her sister, she knew that she had to be strong. _For everyone's sake._

Resolve in her voice, Misaki turned to the head nurse who had been watching their entire conversation. There was pity in the woman's lined face; she dismissed it. "Ma'am, where did they bring Mrs. Ayuzawa?"

"They brought her to the Cardiovascular Critical Care Unit just thirty minutes ago; we had to make sure she was stable enough for the relocation. Dr. Hosaka was personally accompanied the transfer, so he should still be with them," said the woman in an efficient tone.

"Um," Misaki turned and recognized her mom's nurse-in-charge for the night, Ms. Tono. "Do you want me to accompany you, Miss Ayuzawa?"

She shook her head, forcing a smile on her face. "It's okay, thank you. We know the way." Without a second glance, Misaki walked determinedly, this time taking the elevator up to the eighth floor with her sister. Neither of them spoke a word to each other, the silence interrupted only by Suzuna's sniffs. Finally, they reached the CCU. Dr. Hosaka was just outside, holding a chart and tersely instructing one of the nurses. The cardiologist has been one of her mother's friends in high school, and since learning of her mother's illness, had been her attending doctor for years. Seeing them approaching from the elevator, he wrapped up and dismissed the nurse, turning to the sisters.

"Miss Suzuna," He nodded at the younger girl in acknowledgement before turning to the older female. The grave expression deepened the creases on his face. "And Miss Ayuzawa, I'm glad you could make it."

"Please, just Misaki," she answered absently.

"All right," he nodded again. There was a pause as though he was gathering his thoughts. "Before we go in, I need to brief you. As I told you a week ago, your mother had been showing great signs of recovery. She's on the sixth month of anti-Koch's treatment, and her rehabilitation has been going smoothly. The progression in her daily activities, as we recorded, has been better—in that she can do more activities without exhibiting signs of distress."

He paused again. Misaki waited.

"There's no easy way to say this but…late this evening, while she was doing her usual stroll at the gardens, Miss Ayuzawa was stung by a…bee, on her neck."

Misaki's eyes widened while Suzuna stopped sniffling in confusion. It would have sounded incredulous albeit amusing to a layman; the implications would have not been clear. This was not the case to Misaki who immediately put these together.

"She…went into anaphylaxis."

The doctor acknowledged, knowing she understood. "Yes. Anaphylaxis, a life-threatening allergic reaction. It was actually a delayed reaction at first. Immediately after the incident, she went back inside and informed the nurses—who referred to the resident-on-duty. Except for the itching and redness at the site of the sting, she exhibited no symptoms, but we were watchful nonetheless. We gave her intramuscular Diphenhydramine on the right arm for prophylaxis. But approximately three hours ago, before she went to sleep, she suddenly complained of having difficulty of breathing…and basically it went downhill from there—blood pressure falling, dyspnea, desaturation, then loss of consciousness. Basically, anaphylactic shock. The emergency team was activated and fortunately, we were able to intubate her before her airways could completely collapse. She then went into cardiac arrest but we were able to revive her after three doses of epinephrine. And so we're here."

"So we're here," she repeated softly. _What now? _

Gently, Dr. Hosaka continued. "As you know well, she had rheumatic fever at a young age which left a sequela of rheumatic heart disease, and her mitral valve is severely stenotic. We've talked before about valve replacement once she is stronger…but this unprecedented event makes it more necessary than ever. Once she's stable enough for the procedure, we'll have to go with the procedure."

The blow left Misaki momentarily speechless. Suzuna took over. "But—but wouldn't it be more dangerous to do it now?"

"Considering the pros and cons, a delay in the procedure would have a worse prognosis for her. She went into shock and cardiac arrest after all. Imagine the burden on the non-pathologic heart—what more on the diseased one? For a long time, her heart has been undergoing compensatory changes typical of those with chronic conditions; what I'm afraid of happening is for the compensation to be irreversible, due to the recent events. An immediate action is necessary."

"The valve," Misaki's voice sounded harsh, even to her own ears. "What about the valve?" Mechanical heart valves were very expensive, and there were different types. The specific model that their cardiovascular surgeon was gunning for was the latest model produced by the Edwards Lifesciences company, costing almost two hundred thousand yen, not including the shipping costs from the USA. Misaki had studied up on different mechanical valves and, upon reading latest journals, came to the conclusion that the Edwards-Makoto PRO-X (which was developed by a Japanese researcher, Makoto Ken, under the same company) had the best benefits—life-span of 40-50 years, roughly 10 years more than the average valve, and the prosthetic material used was the least prone to develop bacterial vegetations, as compared to others.

"I know we requested for the Edwards-Makoto PRO-X, Misaki—but at this time, we will have to make do with what is available. We're pressed for time as it is, and the request you sent was approved only a few days ago. I'm afraid we can't make it if we wait."

"I see," sighed Misaki. "When—when can we do the operation?"

"That's another thing as well…Dr. Mikoto—the attending surgeon—is presently out of the country for vacation leave and will be returning in five days. She has someone taking over her cases, in the event of emergency, but Dr. Mata's schedule is full for this week."

_The world is against us. _Misaki wanted to lash out, vent her anger but she maintained her composure, for Suzuna's sake. To look for another doctor to do the case was difficult—how many thoracic-cardiovascular surgeons existed in Japan? It was, she knew, one of those specialties with longer training programs. Few survive the training to actually practice in the field. And without insurance, knowing their financial difficulties, few doctors would actually take them on without a guarantee of payment. She couldn't blame them. The words that came out of her mouth was what every hopeless and cornered relative asked:

"What do we do, doc?"

Recognizing the fear, the older man placed a comforting hand on Misaki's shoulder. "For now, we will keep your mother stable as best as we can, to prevent the progression of her the heart failure while waiting for Dr. Mikoto's return. You can visit your mother but I can give you no more than five minutes for now."

Wordlessly, Misaki nodded and with a light squeeze on Suzuna's hand, pushed the CCU doors open.

* * *

xxx

The calm and quiet ride back to his apartment did nothing to still the buzz in Usui's mind. As he turned the key to his apartment, the happenings of the past day whizzed by his head: seeing Misaki, his offer, her refusal, then last night—rather, a few hours ago, since it was just two o clock in the morning…

Usui found himself marveling at the turn of events, and the endless possibilities.

What were the odds?

Shaken, he took out a bottle of brandy, filled himself a glass and robotically emptied it. The searing heat sliding from throat to belly relaxed and gave him focus. Standing by the wide windows with a refilled glass at hand, he gazed down at the landscape of buildings and houses. Noted the random small figures of drunken people walking on the streets. In a small city this size, what were the chances of him reuniting with a woman he met only once six months ago? What were the chances that they would be studying at the same school, in the same course, in the same year level, in the same class? How incredibly ironic is it that the same woman who has been intermittently haunting him is Aoi's—his confidant/butler/chauffeur's—best friend? The gods had a profound sense of humor.

_Fate, _he pondered. _Is a bunch of crap. _

Or is it?

Deciding it didn't matter, Usui mercilessly consumed the contents of his glass, set it down on the coffee table and sat down on the adjacent couch, the tips of his fingers pressed against each other. A hundred of memories, thoughts, questions plagued him.

He remembered that Aoi told him that his aunt was a "Mama-san" of sorts...did that mean that Misaki worked there? He didn't like the implications of that but he decided against jumping to conclusions. Still, the probability was high. The apparently intimate ties of the blonde woman with his butler made him breathe easier; Aoi didn't strike him as a character who juggled a prostitute with a lover. Then again, the older woman's appearance and aura were suggestive of a suspicious character as well; could she be Ayuzawa's colleague? And why did she suddenly leave? Was there truly an emergency as she said? And if so, how was Ayuzawa Misaki? Did something happen to her mother again?

The problems of her family had been a central feature of everything she did. Hadn't she told him vaguely as well six months ago? The same was implied by Sakura as well. So if the problem was solved, would she stop? Finally...

_How can I make her accept my offer?_

Planning was everything. And he would need a carefully constructed plan if he wanted Ayuzawa Misaki. That, and a ton of luck.

_But who needs luck,_ he thought ironically, _if fate is on my side?_

* * *

xxx

The class was a-buzz even in the early morning. There were rumors regarding a surprise exam for their first Neurology class; hence, most of the students were rounded into groups furiously reviewing each other and popping questions. The quieter ones sat on their own respective chairs digesting what they can read; others were pacing madly, muttering to themselves.

"This is hopeless," cried Sakura. For the past five minutes, she had been staring blankly at diagram of extrapyramidal pathways on her IPad. "I mean, we just studied Neuroanatomy and the correlations crap last year—and it was just so hard! _Now_ we're supposed to have an exam? They haven't even assigned us a proper textbook for this semester yet!"

"Don't sweat it too much, Sakura," replied Shizuko. "I'm pretty sure this is just a preliminary exam—just to see what we learned from that previous course."

"That's the thing! I don't think I learned anything from last year—I mean I can't even remember where cranial nerves are located exactly in the brainstem! Shizukoooo! I'm gonna die!"

"Shush! You're making a scene. Calm down, I'm sure we'll do okay."

The frustrated blonde pointed a rude finger at the spectacled girl. "I can't calm down—and you're not being reassuring! Just look what you did to your fingernails!"

Shizuko pulled her nose out of _Adam's Principles of Neurology, _and looked at her severely nail-bitten fingers. And shrugged. "I do that all the time."

"Shizukooo!"

Said student did her best to ignore the loud woman who was now childishly flailing her arms in front of her. In answer, she flipped a page and buried her nose further into her thick book. Knowing a snub when she saw it, Skura prodded her further. "Shizuko! Ask me questions!"

With a sigh, Shizuko raised her hands in defeat. "All right, all right. Okay…since you were talking about cranial nerves earlier—recite them all to me, and then tell me the origin of each one, including whether it functions as mainly motor, mainly sensory or both."

"W-wait!"

From his place on the window sill, Usui discreetly chuckled at the pair of girls. For a while, he was tempted to approach the two since he was already acquainted with them but decided against it; he was comfortable where he was. Unlike the other students cramming for the rumoured surprise exams, he leisurely played _Zombie Tsunami _on his Samsung Galaxy. All the while, he was half-alert for any mention of one woman's name, or better yet one woman's presence. But as of the moment, she had yet to make an appearance. A cursory glance at the wall clock revealed that it was already five minutes past 8 o'clock.

Though not true for all cases, it was almost customary for college professors, especially in medical school since consultants were the ones doing the classes, to be late in the morning; most of them would explain that they had early bedside rounds at the hospital while others would say that they came from an operation. Though it was only the second day of class, Usui knew from experience that the same would apply to Seika.

Just as he was thinking that, the Neurology professor arrived and like magic, everyone settled into place. In spite of the reputation of the school, the students were obviously mature enough to show respect for their teachers. The problems usually arose when the faculty was no longer around and they were left to their own devices. Usui situated himself behind his target's favourite spot—at the right side of the aisle, just two rows from the back. If Sakura and Shizuko gave him curious looks, it didn't appear to faze him.

"Good morning, Class II-A—am I correct?" When the general body assented, the professor nodded. Usui noted that he was surprisingly young-looking, accentuated further by his informal clothes—a white polo shirt with the first three buttons left undone, half-tucked into faded blue jeans and running shoes. Instead of the traditional white coat and black laptop case, he carried a navy blue windbreaker and a dark green backpack. He habitually pushed his rimmed glasses up as it seemed to keep sliding down the bridge of his nose. The serious expression on his face was otherwise balanced by the funky style of his black hair, tied back messily into a short ponytail.

When he spoke, it was quiet but audible. "I'm not sure if you've heard of me, but I'm the new addition to the Neurology faculty, Dr. Kanou Soutarou. It's a pleasure to be here." With that, he pulled out his laptop and graciously thanked one of the students who stood up to help him set-up the projector. "Oh, and by the way—you don't have to worry about having an exam today because we won't." He paused as the students expressed their unanimous relief before continuing, "And no need to write down notes as well. What we're gonna discuss for now is just an overview of Neurology—then, I'll give you a reading assignment and a case to study."

Usui found his respect for the young doctor's style gradually increasing. Deceptively casual, he leaned back, listening with interest. The lecture was very engaging, and Dr. Kanou, in spite of his very serious expression was approachable and receptive of questions in between slides. He had a Hippocratic style of teaching, involving the students and encouraging free thinking—something which Usui personally thought impossible when it came to the field of Neurology, or for any medical field in general. In an hour, the introduction was finished and he doled out the assignments. Then he further engaged them in the history of Western medicine and the independent expansion of the Chinese and Japanese medicine, which surprisingly was not as boring as it sounded.

All the while, the seat in front of his remained empty.

_Where are you, Misa-chan?_

Ten minutes into a heated debate amongst the students regarding the science behind acupuncture, Dr. Kanou's phone rang. Excusing himself, he answered it curtly and shut it. "Sorry—that was Dr. Miyazono just now. Where is Misaki-kun?"

For a moment, the question of who this "Misaki-kun" was baffled the students, and they stared at each other muttering. Usui narrowed his eyes, wondering why the young doctor knew Misaki familiarly.

With some hesitation, Shizuko raised her hand. "Doctor, I'm afraid Miss Ayuzawa has a family emergency and cannot come today."

"And you are…?"

"Kaga Shizuko, doctor. Vice-president."

"All right…Dr. Miyazono just called, asking for you to meet her after this class…which I am officially ending now." When some of the students groaned, a grin lifted the sombre expression from his face, charming the girls and even some of the boys. "Don't worry—we still have more weeks to come." Before leaving, he turned to the vice-president. "I hope Misaki-kun is all right. Please send her my regards."

Shizuko only nodded; if she was surprised, she didn't show it. As soon as he was out of the door, Sakura glared at the spectacled girl. "What?"

"You didn't tell me that Ayuzawa had an emergency."

"Well—you were so tense earlier. If I told you about that, you'd just worry unnecessarily."

Usui could no longer stomach his own reticence. "Is Ayuzawa-san all right?"

Shizuko gave him a measuring look; as though she liked what she saw, the young woman gave him a nod. "Yes. As I said, it was a family emergency."

"Oh my—could something have happened to Auntie again?"

"Sakura!"

The blonde female squarely met her friend's reproachful stare. "It's okay—didn't you say yesterday that we could trust Usui-san?"

Hesitantly, Shizuko answered. "It's not just a matter of trust. It's just—I feel kind of guilty. I mean, I'm not really sure Misaki would want us telling a new acquaintance regarding the circumstances of her family. No offense meant, Usui-san."

"None taken. But that doesn't make me less curious."

"Why do you care so much?"

"Perhaps the French in me enjoyed that impromptu kiss we shared yesterday," he replied so lightly that Sakura giggled. "But that would be incredibly callous of me. Will it reassure you if say instead that I have her best interests at heart?"

The sincerity flowing from his intense expression and soft voice rendered the two girls furiously blushing. "Usui-san…"

A lot of things would depend on the information that he gathered now, but rushing them would get him nowhere. He awaited his verdict silently.

The two girls shared a look. And with a resigned sigh, Shizuko stood up. "Rooftop, then."

With the girls leading the way, Usui followed. He hoped the answers to his questions were just as easy.

* * *

xxx

_Ojou-sama_, as the name implied,was a chic line of clothes designed for young women. With the unique designs and good promotion, its success was almost viral. Within half a year of introducing it into the market, _Ojou-sama _was already featured in girl's magazines and worn by young celebrities and models. The main store, initially just a small boutique, was expanded, and there were already talks of franchise. But the elusive young fashion designer who also owned the store respectfully declined these offers when given, stating that he wanted to enrich his work further and extend into other cliques and ages, produce a wider line before expansion. In spite of this, his works already had numerous patrons and fans and the shop was always full. Occasionally, requests for customized designs would come through and he, being a master seamstress, would sometimes both design and create these pieces themselves. For a heftier price of course, but so far, no customer left his store unsatisfied.

No one would have imagined that Aoi Hyoudo was only eighteen years old. Since little was known about him, declining interviews and pictorials in most magazines, the public definitely did not know that he also worked part-time as a butler and chauffeur for the equally elusive Walker family, one of the most successful business empires in Japan. Orphaned at an early age of four due to a car crash which instantly killed his parents, Aoi could hardly remember his parents and considered Satsuki, his only living relative as his only family. At five years of age, Edward Walker, who was friend of his parents and also his godfather, generously took him under his care, providing for his studies and even introducing him at the main house. When the head of the Walker family died, the boy mourned the loss of a father. With his last written will and testament declaring continued monthly financial support, he was able to continue schooling. To Aoi, this was a debt which he could never repay.

So when Gerard Walker, the eldest son and successor, asked him to be a personal companion to Usui Takumi, he manfully accepted, grateful that he could finally do something to gradually repay the debt through service. He was already sixteen years old at that time, quick on his feet, street-smart, passionate and quick-tempered; he didn't get along well with the quiet but cunning half-blood. And yet he had always been at Usui's side, personally delegating himself as butler, servant and eventually chauffeur when he finally got his license just a year ago. By then, his staying had no longer anything about debt or obligation; Aoi was simply a loyal confidante and friend.

Resting his eyes for a moment, the young designer leaned back on his swivelling chair, loosening his grip on his pencil. Then he studied the drafts of two designs he had been doodling on for the past hour, pleased. For someone of his temperament, he considered this an achievement; it was often difficult for him to concentrate and finish one draft in an hour. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was thinking of the muse who was presently sleeping peaceably on his bed.

It was Honoka herself who had labelled herself as his girlfriend. Instead of going back to her own place, she came back with him to his own apartment. And now she was lying on his own mattress, wearing only his shirt. The late afternoon sun streamed through the wide windows, putting her on spotlight. She seemed so innocent asleep, blonde hair splayed on the pillow. With the edge of his shirt barely skimming the top of her thighs, her long pale legs seemed to gleam. Aoi felt a first of desire shoot from his loins. And yet he couldn't touch her, dared not. When he woke up that morning, muscles aching from sleeping on a leather sofa, she was still there. He could hardly believe his luck; it was too good to be true.

"You're undressing me," Aoi started when her sleepy eyes met his. Apparently, she had awoken sometime during his soliloquy. "With your eyes, aren't you?"

Awake, the innocence of sleep was gone from her. Languorously, the she-devil stretched her body, much like a cat grazing in the sun. Aoi found himself transfixed, mouth suddenly dry, heart pounding. If he wasn't undressing her with his eyes before, he was now.

"You're awake." His voice sounded too hoarse in his ears.

She rolled her eyes at him, arching her back so that her swell of her breasts were fully outlined on his thin shirt. "What time is it?"

He looked away, flushing. "Half-past two."

She hummed and got up. Aoi struggled with himself as he watched her disappear into his bathroom. What do you say when at the morning after when nothing preceded the morning after? He was left alone with his churning thoughts. When the introspective discussion fell moot, he decided to distract himself with other things instead. So by the time Honoka was done finished with showering, the smell of bacon was already wafting throughout the entire apartment. Predictably, she found him in the kitchen cursing as the crackling oil popped and hit him squarely on the cheek.

"You didn't put enough oil."

Aoi almost jumped out of his skin, realizing that she had managed to stealthily stand beside him, peering at his cooking. With a muttered oath, he brusquely grabbed the bottle of vegetable oil and poured generously on the cooking pan.

"Just sit down," he said tersely.

She ignored him. "Coffee."

"Help yourself."

With a mindless tune, she scrounged his cabinet for ground beans and proceeded to brew coffee. As the first fat drops of brewed coffee dropped into the pot, Honoka jerked her thumb at the table. "I didn't think you liked scrambled eggs."

"I don't," he grumbled. "I was supposed to make 'em sunny-side."

Her laughter reminded him of bells. "Doesn't look like sunny-side to me."

"I said 'supposed', didn't I? It just didn't come out right."

"Obviously."

The ensuing silence was deafening. Aoi's back was an entire line of tension which couldn't be eased even as the scent of coffee drifted lazily in his direction. He set the bacon—fortunately, not burnt—on the table, just beside the lonely-looking "scrambled eggs". Honoka had already set the table, respective rice bowls full. As he sat down, she surprised him by serving coffee. "I added honey instead of sugar."

He murmured his thanks, and sipped the café latte. "Tastes better."

"I know," she smiled, and began eating. The tension in his body failed to dissipate; his eyes kept trailing back at her. Perhaps it was now or never.

"Honoka—"

The doorbell rang. Cursing silently at the missed opportunity, he went to the door and was half-annoyed, half surprised with his visitor.

"Hey, boss. Class ended early eh?"

Usui stepped in and left his shoes at the doorway. "We have to talk."

The dark gleam in his master's eyes told him that the "talk" would be a long and unpleasant. The younger man sighed; his time with Honoka would have to wait again.

* * *

**Abrupt ending, eh? But it gets better...or will it? Anyways, tell me what you think. The review button is just a click away!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Before you start this chapter, I'd like to share with you wonderful readers my joy. Because after five grueling years studying, charts, precious patients, nurses and doctors and plenty of sleepless nights, I'm done with this phase! Ladies and gents, in a few days, I will be graduating, and I can happily, rightfully affix the MD to my surname.**

**(applause to self, yey)**

**It was been hard to write in between those weeks and months, and yet I try and try, because I want to share with you these writings. I write mainly to enjoy myself, and secondarily because I want to share these stories with you as well. So enjoy, have fun! And please review!**

* * *

**The Maid Goes Clinical!**

**Chapter 6: Twenty Questions**

_After their unexpected tryst on the bathroom floor, Usui proposed taking a shower together. Which she flatly denied when he suggestively told her that they'd be washing each other's backs…and everything else._

_And that was how they found themselves sitting opposite each other, legs comfortably entangled in spite of the roomy bathtub, the warm water frothy from the green tea bubble bath. The soothing warmth made Misaki giddy; soon she found herself playing with the water, making more bubbles in the process. The young man found himself enjoying this unexpected lightness in her countenance refreshing._

_When he told her so, she replied solemnly, "This is my first time in a bath tub." He gave her an incredulous look, and she shrugged. "Well, the nearest public bath is really far from our place. And even that only had cubicles for showering and faucets lined in the walls to fill your buckets. No tubs. I've…always envied those kids at school who owned bathtubs. They used to boast that kind of thing in grade school, you know. It's stupid, really. But this is a luxury I never thought I'd ever experience anytime soon. This, and a hot shower, since we don't have a heater."_

_For a fleeting moment, he imagined the hard-headed Misa as a child. He could almost imagine her pretending not to be interested when her classmates talked about new bathtubs and heaters. Tender feelings rose in him so that he gestured for her to move towards him and with the reluctance he had grown to expect in her, she moved and sat beside him so that they were shoulder against bare shoulder._

_Stupid. He scolded himself now that he was hyperaware of the nearness of their bare bodies. The awkwardness on her part has worn off somewhat. After giving him the best blowjob, there was hardly any reason to be awkward, is there? He wondered if he should have taken her then, when she had been oh-so-willing. But it wasn't right._

_"Have you heard of the game 'Twenty Questions?'"_

_She looked up at him, obviously puzzled._

_"Well, the traditional game is like a verbal charade," he explained. "It's basically a group game—one answerer and the rest are questioners. The questioners get to ask questions to guess a certain word—and the answerer may only answer 'Yes' or 'No' until the object is finally guessed."_

_She made a small humming sound, a thoughtful frown denting her features. The urge to flatten those creases with his thumb came over him._

_Instead, he loftily added. "For instance, if I were thinking 'Sex' and you failed to guess in twenty questions, I get to fuck you against the—"_

_He was drowned midsentence by a huge splash and a shout of "Baka!". The blush on her face put him back to ease._

_"There's another version of that game though." Her suspicious look was enough invitation to go on. "We get to ask each other ten questions each. We aren't allowed to lie to each other, and we can't both ask the same questions."_

_"And?"_

_"Well, that's it."_

_The frown was back. "But what's the objective of the game? How do you win?"_

_This time, he gave in to the impulse and simply flattened those creases with the pad of his thumb. "The only objective is to know each other better, my pet. So if at the end of it we emerge friends, then I guess you can count that as a win for both of us, agreed?"_

_Friends. She wondered at the word. Do you have friends? Friends like Sakura and Shizuko? Are you supposed to be friends with someone you're supposed to have a one-night stand with? The image of him surrounded by faceless people drifted like tiny bubbles in her head. She suddenly wondered what type of people he would associate with. Rich people like him perhaps? But the idea, though picturesque, did not fit._

_**Can we be friends…in spite of all of this?** She wanted to ask._

_Her mind was drifting again, Usui could sense that. What on earth made him think of that stupid game anyways? But he had to divert both of them, somehow. Had he given in earlier, he would have done the promised deed. And it would all end._

_**That's not the ending I want.** _

_So Usui waited. When Misa sighed, he knew she was both physically and mentally present; the feigned boredom in her voice could hardly disguise her interest. "I guess. Well, just no specifics, okay?"_

_He raised a hand, smiling at his victory. "I do solemnly swear. And since you're a noob at this, you get to ask the first question."_

* * *

The atmosphere was stifling. Aoi couldn't explain the sudden urge to loosen his collar buttons, to bury his balling fists into his pockets. Perhaps it had something to do with the incongruently intense expression on his boss' face even as he sat back on the leather couch, laidback, fingers crossed in a deceptively relaxed pose across his lap. Perhaps it was due to the presence of Honoka—who Usui had insisted on staying—seated across the mahogany coffee table, studying them both beneath her heavily lidded eyes while hypnotically mixing cream onto her very black, very strong coffee. Not knowing what to do with himself, unsure of why Usui was compelled to do this unprecedented visit—certainly urgent since he wouldn't have done so otherwise—the ruffled host set a tray of brandy complete with ice and glasses on the table before positioning himself just a hairbreadth beside his new _girlfriend. _

_Girlfriend, _he mused wryly as he poured a two-fingers of alcohol and slid the glass across to Usui. _That would certainly need getting used to…_

"I interrupted something perhaps."

Aoi looked away before taking a gulp of brandy, suddenly thirsty. "Not really."

The glare Honoka sent his way could have killed a rabid beast.

The half-British lad smiled understandingly but it didn't reach his eyes. "I need to talk to you."

_I know. Didn't you say so earlier? _But this pert reply was left unsaid. In its place was a pregnant pause, increasing the young butler's unease. In spite of the unprecedented interruption, Honoka surprised him by placing a reassuring hand on his knee before directing an inquisitive glance towards Usui.

"I suppose it has something to do with what you asked me last night?"

Looking to and fro the two of them, Aoi asked with a suspicious frown. "You guys talked last night?"

"Yes it does," With a small sigh, Usui nodded. "And yes, Aoi, we did."

A knot was curling in his belly. Before he could put a finger onto the emotion, the comforting hand across his knee became a sharp pat, briskly pulling him out of reverie. "Stupid. Don't work yourself out over nothing. He just asked me something."

He really didn't know what to think anyways. What do his boss and his older girlfriend want to talk about anyways? He wanted to ask but couldn't. Instead, his eyes furiously met hers, knowing what she saw, hating his own insecurity.

_We really need to talk._

"Well?"

"I asked her about the person you were with last night." Usui's voice snapped him back to attention. "Ayuzawa Misaki."

The unease in his belly spread into something he did not like. "Yeah. What about her?"

The contents of Usui's glass disappeared with a smooth gulp; if he was agitated, he was definitely doing a fascinating job of hiding it. Casually, he murmured. "Tell me about her."

The crease in the butler's forehead deepened. "Like I said last night…she's my best friend. Wait—I remember you talked to her last night on the phone. Did she diss you, boss?" When there was no answer, he continued. "Whatever Misaki-chan said, I'm pretty sure she didn't mean it—or she probably did, but I'm pretty sure she means well."

His instant defence of the absent woman gave him points for loyalty in Usui's mind. But he waved this away. "Just tell me about her."

"Why?" There was a suspicious gleam in the younger man's eyes, suggesting that truth was the only option. In the years that Aoi had been his companion and confidant, there was no time when he couldn't trust him. If there were two traits that Usui valued in him most, those were his loyalty and passion for everything he did. The present female company was another issue altogether, though.

Jerking his head at the blonde, he asked. "Does she have to be here?"

With a sigh, Honoka made a move to stand. But Aoi immediately covered her hand with his to keep her in place. "Yes."

The absolute resolution in his voice made raised both of Honoka's delicate brows. "I'll leave you to talk. It's not necessary."

"It is." His hold on her tightened. Turning to his boss, he said. "You can trust her. And she knows Ayuzawa as well. You can use her as reference—if she wants of course."

This time, it was Usui's turn to sigh. Aoi released his hold and allowed Honoka to relax on her seat. With a final unreadable look in Aoi's direction, she focused on the elegant man sitting before them who seemed to be appraising them.

"All right. Can I interest the two of you in an unbelievable story?"

* * *

_Misa adjusted her position so that she was lying in the tub, her face towards the ceiling. She remained silent however. For a while, Usui thought that she had fallen asleep. So he was surprised when her alert yet dreamy voice all but floated. "Why…all this?"_

_Usui raised a brow. "Elaborate."_

_"When I was running away from those men and bumped into you—didn't I just suddenly pull you with me? Why did you come with me, a complete stranger? You're certainly strong, so why didn't you pull away? And then the…alley. And you brought me here. So why?"_

_"That's already five questions you know. We're supposed to take turns."_

_She thumped his shoulder with a fist, frowning. "Baka. You know what I mean."_

_His laughter was rich in her ears and she felt herself being at ease again, surprised at how stiff her own question had made her. "I guess I better make an exception and make that just one question—just this once alright." He sighed then and murmured. "In answer to your question, I really don't know. Maybe it was the fear in your face. Since we're really being honest here, maybe it was even part boredom."_

_She hit him again. "Be serious."_

_"I'm being serious. But after hearing what you told me in the alley, I got intrigued. Then I had to know what turned this strong woman into a desperate mess."_

_She turned away. "Maybe I'm not that strong."_

_"Oh you are, Misa, and you know that best. I had to know why a woman like you would meet with a dangerous group of men and run away. Why you would suddenly run up to me, a complete stranger as you say, for a fuck. As this short night grew on, I thought that I had to know why you were crying in your sleep. I'm intrigued, in the best of words. I have to know what drove you up this wall."_

_"Is that why we're playing this game?"_

_He smiled at her—that secret smile that he always wore, that would haunt her for many nights after._

* * *

On their mother's third hospital stay, Misaki urged her younger sister to go to school.

"Both of us staying here won't change a thing about mom's condition," said Misaki resolutely. "She doesn't need both of us looking after her."

Suzuna's tired droopy eyes searched her older sister's. "But what about you?"

_Who's going to take care of you?_

The unspoken question drifted in the air. The older woman brushed it easily away. "Go to school. It's really hard to concentrate right now, I know, but you have a scholarship to keep." One of the conditions of Suzuna's high school scholarship, aside from maintaining her grades and maintaining a sterling moral character was good attendance which was defined in their school's handbook as attendance of more than 95% of total hours in a school year. She was already absent 2.5% of the total hours due to constantly having to attend to their poor mother. It was, to Misaki, a reminder of her inadequacy as family breadwinner. It twisted at her all the more.

"Nee-san! _I don't want to leave you here."_

"You have to," She gripped those small shoulders firmly, willing her to listen. "I need you to. See, maybe you can even catch some sleep while you're there—maybe go the infirmary or something—so long as you're there, okay? Just make sure to relieve me at around 7 pm…I still have to go to work as well."

The girl looked down, focusing on her worn clothes. When she finally nodded, Misaki released the breath she had been holding and patted her sister's head. "I'll see you later okay?" With that, she pushed her sister towards the elevator. When the doors finally slid to a close, the strained smile dissolved and she went back inside the CCU after punching the codes. There were six patients in the special unit, all of them in varying degrees of consciousness, all of them teetering between life and death. Each hospital visit, especially in these units, reminded Misaki of how truly short and fragile life is, reminded her that wickedness was innate not only in humans but in disease themselves. The patients suffer; slowly deteriorating, pride and dignity crushed from disability and complete reliance on their nurses and doctors and in worst cases, medicines and machines to keep them alive. And the loved ones must standby, occasionally as primary caretakers, usually as helpless watchers, succumbing to the suffering as well. Death comes almost as a bittersweet balm for those who suffered longest, but the pain would never end.

Indeed, Death was a thief, and disease it's most tortuous method.

Misaki stood for half an hour in front of the isolation room, watching her frail mother through the glass. After the long ordeal last night, their mother had been stabilized. There were IV lines on both of her arms, one for fluids and the other for the parenteral nutrition; from her dry parted mouth passed the endotracheal tube connected to mechanical ventilator providing each life sustaining breath. There was another catheter for collecting urine, monitored hourly. The cardioscope beeped when her blood pressure fell but the bedside nurse was immediately there to titrate the inotropes.

_Mother, please don't die._

A silent plea. Misaki wondered if anyone could hear her thoughts. She doubted the gods heard her; hadn't she been praying every day, in vain? Suffering seemed to be the only tangible answer in her life these days. Someone—a passing nursing aide—offered her a seat, and she meekly accepted. Opting to be productive rather than wallow in self-pity, she pulled out her medical microbiology book from her bag and began reading. But her mind kept drifting.

As Dr. Hosaka predicted, they were unable to find another doctor to take her case while Dr. Mikoto was away; her cover, Dr. Mata, was apologetic but firm when he called to inform them that he could not do the surgery with his own back to back cases. Not to mention that the operation was costly; Misaki had barely recovered from the gradual deposits she made for her mother's month-long stay in the ICU before. Not to mention the costs of the in-hospital rehabilitation her mother was receiving. The supposed schedule of her operation was on the following year, and this was something Misaki had been saving up for. Now, with the surgery suddenly pulled back into an earlier time, she was lost. Even with the money she received from her work, and with the savings she managed to accumulate, there was no way they could afford it.

The words on the paper were suddenly too blurry to read. She blinked away the moisture and took a deep breath to control herself.

_I just need to get more clients, that's all, _she decided resolutely. The idea clutched at her heart. Recently, she's been offered more daring clients, those with strange fetishes. Those ones disgusted Misaki the most, but they were also the ones who paid the best. She had Honoka to attest to that as her clientele stretched even into the ambiguous realms. But given the situation, did she really have a choice?

_I have a choice. I've always had a choice. _The unconscious woman lying across the glass pane strengthened her resolve.

_And right now, I choose your life, Mother. _

With that, Misaki wiped the few unwanted tears from her cheeks and focused instead on her readings.

* * *

_"So, how old are you?"_

_She blinked at him. "That's it?"_

_"That's it."_

_"Nineteen."_

_"All right. Your turn."_

_"Well. That was easy."_

_"That was just an appetizer."_

_"So what's the main dish?" she said sarcastically._

_"Maybe you can tell me that."_

_Teasing, she knew yet even as she rolled her eyes, she was acutely aware of their nakedness. She tried to ignore this, to no avail. Suddenly, she was assaulted by an image of herself lying bare on a long table, garnish and oil smoothed on her torso, prey to his wolfish appetite._

_He flicked a finger at her nose. "You're drooling."_

_Automatically, she raised her soaking hand to her face to check, saw him laughing, and glared._

_"Whatever," she said grumpily. "Okay. Well. How old are you?"_

_He smirked. "You aren't allowed to ask the same question."_

_"Are you making fun of me?"_

_His smirk became wider. "Yes."_

_"Wha—"_

_"My turn, do you still go to school?"_

_"Hey, I haven't asked my question yet!"_

_"You have—you said, 'Are you making fun of me?' and I answered 'Yes'."_

_"You really are making fun of me!"_

_"Yeah, I did say that."_

_"You—!" she huffed, face red for entirely different reasons now._

_"Tick-tock."_

_"Was there are time limit?"_

_"Nope. Just teasing you."_

**_Frustrating!_**

_"Well…Do you?" He probed again, enjoying her inner struggle._

_With a sigh, she nodded, deciding that she could never win against him. "Yes. I still do. In fact I'm a college student."_

_"What're you taking?"_

_This time, she wagged her finger at him. "My turn."_

_Usui grinned. "Interesting. You're a fast learner."_

_Misa tried to glare but found she couldn't. Instead, she giggled in spite of herself, joining his silent mirth in a happiness the rest of the world could not hear._

* * *

"Misaki! You're back!"

Satsuki rushed to the girl, enveloping her in a tight embrace. Misaki closed her eyes, relishing the much needed warmth and comfort.

"Mama-san—" she began formally but the kimono-clad woman only rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"Please, didn't I say before? It's Satsuki-_neesama_ or _neesan_ to you. Mama-san makes me feel so _old_."

Ayuzawa let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "Satsuki-_neesama_, I'm sorry I couldn't come the past few days."

The older woman rolled her eyes again. "I know you're sorry about anything but that. How is your mother?"

"She's—" a sudden hitch in her voice made her pause. She gulped down the fear. "She's stable."

Satsuki pulled away to appraise her. Though she avoided direct eye contact, the expression on the younger woman's face was determined. With that, Satsuki sighed. "I'm not gonna argue with you 'bout anything—that's the _last_ thing you need, I'm sure." This was met with silence. Turning away, the veritable owner of _Love-Love _Café went to her boudoir, procuring two ceramic cups and a flask of sake kept in her topmost shelf. She poured for both of the two drank in silence.

By the third cup, Misaki already felt warmer but at the same time, steadier. Bolder even. _Borrowed strength, _she thought hazily; she was never good with high-grade alcohol. "I need more clients."

"Oh my," was the mild reply. "We're quickly running out of sake aren't we."

It was a statement rather than a question, just like a quick comment on the weather. But Misaki was determined. "Please, Satsuki-san. I need more clients."

"Is that your solution?"

That's it. The sweet melodic voice inhabited a deep timbre. Any trace of a happy-go-lucky demeanor was lost; at times like these, Misaki would wonder if it ever existed in the old, more experienced woman. It certainly didn't appear to be the case if you look at her unblemished luminescent skin, her baby-like face, seemingly free of worries. When she raised her eyes, Satsuki's knowledgeable, world-weary eyes were mired with pity.

"For now, it's the only one I have."

"That kind of half-hearted resolve will not solve your troubles."

She shook her head furiously, denial to the woman, denial to herself. "It will solve my troubles, at least for now."

"At least for now," echoed Satsuki. Carefully, she pulled out a pipe from the sleeve of her kimono, lit it up and puffed away, the smoke drifting idly between them. Secretly, this was one of Satsuki's biggest fears when she first took on the young girl under her wing: for her to be consumed by the dark world they inhabited. She was certainly the youngest, the most nubile, the most innocent. She sighed. "I remember when you first came to me half a year ago. You asked if you could work for me."

"And you refused me."

The corners of her lips curved, showing dimpled cheeks. "Of course I would. You were my dear nephew's best friend. I remember first thinking, 'Aoi will kill me' and then later, 'Oh, I couldn't.' And it's true. I couldn't—didn't want to do it to you. You have dreams, a bright future. Even I who work here in this business know how it can bring you to deep ends, destroy you even. I've seen too much of that; sometimes, even I wonder if I was spared from that."

Misaki shook her head passionately, gripping her cup. "You were—isn't that why you created this Café? For your girls, for yourself too. You built it from scratch, and made something respectable out of it."

"Respectable is a big word," murmured Satsuki whilst sipping sake. "After all, all of it stills boils down to sex, and making money from it."

Sex and Death. Sex or Death. _Why does it always have to be so Freudian? _

"I refused you," she continued. "And you got into so much trouble after that."

Misaki smiled, almost reminiscently. "Yes it did. I thought I could do it alone—I thought it would be easy. I had no idea how important a backer was, how dangerous it could be if you had no affiliates, no _Mama-san._"

"In a way, it led you to something good, didn't it?"

As easy as a key unlocking a chest, memories of that fateful night came flooding back. Of gleaming eyes, the pungent scent of lust and promise of rape. Of running away. And of unwittingly bumping into the man she saw in the park, that man with silky blonde hair and fine green eyes…

Lost in thoughts, Ayuzawa remained silent. The madam of Love-Love Café went on softly. "You came back to me…all different. With what happened, I had no choice but to take you in as one of my girls."

"Do you regret it?"

The lonely expression on her face again reminded Misaki of how much older Satsuki was, in spite of her baby-face. "I always will. But rather me than some other pimp with no respect for a woman's body. You're mine now. And if there's something I will at least never regret, it's having you girls as my family."

A ball in her throat threatened to choke but the younger woman forced the tears down. Pretending not to notice, Satsuki busied herself with their cups whilst telling random stories of what has been going on in the club on the days that Misaki was away.

"And did you know? Aoi and Honoka's together now."

This made Misaki cough into her sake, temporarily forgetting her melancholy. "_WHAT?"_

"Yes, yes," tutted Satsuki. "It was really quite a surprise. Aoi suddenly coming back after months of being away, and then them becoming a couple. My nephew sure knows how to work fast, I'll give him that. Maybe he got it from me?"

_Maybe it's Honoka who did all the fast work, _she thought ruefully, not bothering to pop Satsuki's bubbles of happiness. "Will the two of them be okay? Will Aoi be okay? I mean—it's _Honoka." _For crying out loud.

The older woman raised her thin shoulders in a light shrug. "Who knows?"

"Satsuki-neesan! Aren't you worried?"

This was answered by a coy smile, as if to say, _Do I look like I am?_

They talked some more, speculating about the two, talking about other lighter subjects, until Satsuki clapped her hands. "All right. Go to your parlor, get dressed. You have a client."

This made the medical student blink twice. She didn't see Satsuki taking any calls or messages at all. "Did you plan this? Did you know…?"

Again, the all-knowing expression on Satsuki's face reflected her age. But there was something else in that expression, too. Something that made Misaki's heart hammer. With that, Misaki bowed and took her leave.

Once out of earshot, Satsuki took out her phone and sent a brief message:

_Get ready._

With a sigh, the woman shook her head and smiled, amused with the frivolities of youth.

* * *

After the third unanswered call, Hyoudo Aoi ran his fingers through his thick jet black hair in frustration. It has been three days since he last saw and contacted Misaki. On those three days, he had visited the humble apartment that the Ayuzawa's lived in, to no avail. Even Suzuna was out. He didn't know the hospital her mother was staying in as well. In desperation, he even stalked and asked Misaki's friends Sakura and Shizuko. But even they were just as unaware. His aunt also had no idea regarding her youngest charge's whereabouts. It was as though Misaki Ayuzawa had disappeared from the face of the earth and it was driving the young lad insane with worry.

_Where are you, Misaki?_

Determined to work his frustration, Aoi drifted to his worktable, pulled out sketches of new projects. But this too quickly lost its appeal as his mind began wandering.

Apparently, his best friend's mysterious lover was his boss. It should be easy enough to hear as well as believe but it surprisingly wasn't. Usui's revelation was too absurd it came off as a badly written novel in his mind. While Usui slowly recounted his story, he kept expecting to hear "April fools!" though April was damn past, and of course his boss wouldn't be caught dead saying that.

But of course, its absurdity meant that it could be nothing but the truth.

Misaki had never revealed much about this history, determined as she was to close that part of the book. But the tender, almost pained expression that crept on her face on those few times—a total of just two—reminded him of someone who had not just lost a lover but an actual _love_.

And now, with Usui's clipped story resonating in his mind, he knew exactly what it meant. Wasn't it ironic that he could have saved them so much trouble had either of them simply blurted the truth out a long time ago? With this in mind, he wondered what Usui would do to him if he knew about their tryst.

_Smile, probably, _he thought wryly. Then proceed to mangle him in the slowest, most agonizing manner.

With a sigh, he imagined the comfort of fabric against his fingers, weaved designs in his mind and fell into work. For some time, he was fully concentrated on his work that the loud knocking remained unnoticed at first. As it persisted and became louder in succession, the noise became impossible to ignore. Growling, pencils and papers were strewn as he pushed off the desk, back muscles cramped from misuse, determined to get rid of the unwanted visitor.

Aoi certainly didn't expect to get his breath stolen instead.

Honoka.

Honoka, wearing this loose one-piece dress, so flowery, so utterly virginal, so unlike her, but still her at the same time. How can she wear such simple clothes and still look like a goddess?

He fell on his ass when she tackled him, and before he could utter an oath her mouth was plundering his, and all coherent thought flew out of the window.

The sensation of being kissed, and of kissing, and the exploration of her tongue and teeth were simply mind-blowing. By the time he had the mind to grip her hips, she was already unzipping his pants, releasing his erect member, and she was riding him. He was reminded that this was no deity visiting him; this was a temptress, an absolute devil come to take him.

And he didn't mind at all.

* * *

_How many questions had been asked? Misa had already lost track. The game had turned into a volley of questions now, curiosity getting ahead of either of them. She doubted he lost track though, and knew he was giving her leeway._

_"You're enjoying this," she suddenly voiced. "Aren't you?"_

_"Is that really your eighth question?" he grinned._

_Well, she was right about him not losing track; she rolled her eyes. "Whatever. What year were you born in?"_

_"1993."_

_"Oh. We're just the same age. I thought you'd be older."_

_"Do I look old?" he asked._

_"Not really. I just thought so. I mean, look at this suite. I don't know which five-star hotel—not really familiar with those things—but surely, you're loaded if you can afford these things."_

_He tipped his head at her and drawled. "For all you know, I'm using my trust fund. Or my dad's credit card."_

_She considered this before shaking her head. "You don't strike me as the type."_

_"The type? What's exactly my type, Misa-chan?"_

_"Is that your question?" She teased._

_"We can make it that."_

_This surprised her. Mulling things over, she stared back at the ceiling. "I honestly don't know. It's—instinctive? I obviously don't know you but something tells me that you're not the type to do distrustful things."_

_"That's a dangerous thought. I'm suddenly glad I was the one you madly pulled into a dash."_

_She felt embarrassed, knowing how foolish she sounded. "That's the thing. I chose you, didn't I? I knew you could be trusted."_

_How does anyone respond to something so foolish? And yet he felt embarrassed with the absolute faith in her voice. When she turned to him, tenderness on her face, he held his breath. "It must be your eyes. These very lonely eyes."_

_"That's the second time you labelled me as lonely."_

_She held his gaze, as though to ask for the second time that night, aren't you?_

_Instead, she asked, "Where did you get this game?"_

_Pulled from his momentary reverie, Usui answered. "A few years back, I stumbled over this English website with translations of foreign literature. There's this play—written by _Juan Ekis_ entitled 'Twenty Questions'."_

_"What was it about?"_

_"Basically, it's about two friends who get stuck in a room together—a woman and a man. See, back in their college days, this woman made a ritual wherein they'd stick a certain couple who hadn't had the guts to be together in a room for three days. They don't have to worry about food. Eventually, those people finally get together in the end—get married, etcetera. One day, their friends pulled that same prank on her and this new guy in their group. They were determined to be the first failures of that ritual. Until they played 'Twenty Questions' that is, and the rest was history."_

_Misa blinked, wondering if he understood the implications. "I see."_

_"You're not going to ask why I wanted to play this game."_

_It wasn't a question, but she answered anyways. "No, I'm not. I guess I already know."_

_**You want to understand me. It's okay. I want to understand you, too. **The elaboration was stuck in her throat. Instead, she pressed her burning face against his neck and murmured in a thick voice. "Thank you."_

_When she pulled back, a strange expression was on his face—almost tender. Now, more than ever, she felt that urge to simply drown in those eyes and it unsettled her._

_**That's it, **she thought.** The tub water must be getting cold. ** Shivering a bit, she moved to get out of the tub but he held her in place._

_"Why do you need money?"_

* * *

Per tradition, Misaki took a scalding shower, scrubbing her body with an apricot cleanser. She carefully emptied her mind, washing away not only old skin cells but also her worries away. It soothed her, calmed her nerves each time. There was a time in her life when hot baths were a rare; even now that she was able to take one whenever she wanted to, the luxury was never lost on her. Her baths were precious private moments.

Today was different, of course. The steam had hardly dissipated but both mind and heart were heavy again. As she stepped out of the bath, the woeful screaming in her head resumed, and a band-like pressure was already starting on her forehead. Stress, she thought and knew.

_Stress will never leave my life._ _I've only to cope._

But wasn't that precisely what she had been doing since their father left them?

Misaki dried herself carefully with a towel, scrutinizing the dress lain out for her. It was always Satsuki who chose the outfits for her girls, especially when it came to new customers. The older woman would do this after examining each client, then ready everything from the makeup to the clothes, carefully tailoring to each man's—or woman's—desires and fetishes. When those new clients became regulars, as they were often bound to be after a satisfying encounter, the girls were allowed to choose their own wardrobe, mainly because they've already acquainted with their prospects for the night. Honoka, of course, was exempted from this rule as she was a special case.

This particular dress was different from the usual ones. For one, it didn't fit the usual theme. It was a full dress, the color of violets in spring, sheer and satiny. The back flowed down to her ankles, she discovered as shimmied herself into it, while the front part reached down to her knees. No zippers, she thought wryly. Instead, there were 5 pairs of white straps in front of the bodice. She tied each pair into a ribbon, smoothed the dress down and looked at herself in the mirror.

She looked like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. Not that she needed much unwrapping; the space between each set of ribbons exposed much of her pale flesh at the front. Misaki recognized though that the color and style flattered her looks and body. With that, she carefully applied light makeup to match the dress, fluffed her hair and spritzed her neck with perfume the scent of blossoms. She decided to go barefoot, putting only a rhinestone anklet on her left. Satisfied with the outcome, she checked the clock, decided that it was time.

Misaki made her way to her appointed room, unaware of the surprise waiting for her.

* * *

**Dun-dun-dun-dun~**

**Well, of course, I'm pretty sure you know what the surprise is... or do you? (wink)**

**Reviews and constructive criticism make my heart soar. ;)**


	8. Chapter 7

Finally updated! Whew. The next chapter will be up in a few weeks. Thank you for your wonderful reviews. It really gave me the strength to go on. ;) It's totally gives me a big forward push when I know that someone out there is still reading my stuff. So, to my readers, thank you.

And to **taorisatemytaco:** I think you just read my mind. ;)

* * *

**The Maid Turns Clinical!**

**Chapter 7: Client**

**_"_****_He's still your father, Misaki."_**

_The simplicity of those words was plain evil. Small hands paused from lathering to grip the dish so tight it threatened to break. And Misaki wanted it to break, wanted to slap it onto the absent man's disgusting, lying face. The young girl settled for spinning around, wanting so badly to hurl spiteful words of rebellion at her mother._

_But the expression on Ayuzawa Minako's face, so dazed, so lost, broke Misaki's heart instead. _

_With burning eyes, she bit back all the hate, occupied herself instead with the dishes…wondering how anyone could love someone like that._

* * *

Misaki's skin tingled with apprehension. Though she has had a lot of clients following her during the past few months, this was her first time going into something this deep. There was no briefing from Satsuki, not even a note to give a clue as to the patient's kinks. Which meant that anything under the sun was possible.

Or rather, anything your wildest imagination could come up with.

The young woman swept into the room, her feet noiselessly sinking into the carpets with each step. The bed was at the middle of the room, and the only light came from the extravagant roaring of the fireplace. On a table in front of it was a table, with two chairs opposite. A bottle of chilled wine was already sweating on top, coupled with two crystal glasses glinting in promise. And yet there was no one inside the room aside from her.

Her client was late.

She let out a sigh of relief and jerked her head when something caught her eye. Padding lightly, she squinted at the camera sitting innocently between the angel figurines above the fireplace. It was pointed towards the bed. The model promised high resolution features.

_You're a naughty boy, aren't you, _she drawled inwardly. Pacing some more, she caught sight of a black bandana beside the champagne bucket. There was a note on top of it.

_"'_Blindfold'," she murmured aloud. So vague. Does he want me blindfolded before he goes in? A wicked smile to rival Honoka's danced on her lips.

_If it's a show he wants, it's a show he's gonna get. _

Misaki repositioned the camera, placing it on the table top, still facing the bed. She flashed her most seductive smile before walking towards the bed, bandana in hand. Methodically, eyes still on the camera, she proceeded to strip, slowly, the feel of smooth material sliding leaving tiny goosebumps in its trail. Then sitting back on the bed she rendered herself blind with the black bandana, and began to touch herself.

It's easier to pretend in the dark, so much better to use her imagination this way.

_It's okay. Because he's watching you, as always, with those devastatingly green eyes. _

She felt her nipples harden almost immediately as she grasped her own breasts. A moan escaped her lips, and she arched back on the bed, her body on fire.

_It's your hands, trailing up my body. You're burying your face between my breasts, and I can feel your silky hair whispering against my flesh. And you're telling me that you want me, you want me, you want me._

Panting, she parted her legs to welcome the absent partner—and to give her voyeur client a better view—slid her fingers experimentally to show just how wet she was.

_I'm so wet for you, just for you._

Her hips bucked with her own intrusion, her fingers sliding in and out, teasing her clitoris.

"Master," she cried. "Master, _please_."

_Usui, Usui, Usui…_

Her fingers worked rhythmically to her imagination, to her own shouts. And somewhere in the back of her head, she could hear a door opening, of another presence in the room. And she smiled to herself, her lure so perfectly set.

_It begins._

* * *

_So, why do you need money?_

_The flush from her face was drained immediately._

_"What makes you think I need money?"_

_He snorted. "You sell cotton candies."_

_"That's what you call a side line."_

_But he was adamant. "A girl in flimsy clothes running from a group of shady older men. What does that tell you?"_

_The sharpness of his emerald gaze made her gulp. Her voice, when it came out was hoarse and shaky, defensive. "I don't know. You tell me."_

_Misaki began levering herself off the bathtub, escape in mind; instead she fell on her rump with a splash as Usui pulled her down against him. Their faces were too close, his breath warming her, but she was both angry and afraid of the way his eyes seemed to read her._

_"It tells me you're in desperate need of quick cash—a lot at that. Is that how you plan to get it—using your body?"_

_Furiously, she tried to pull away again but found his grip iron in spite of the wetness. "You don't know me."_

_"Don't I? Are you telling me that everything you've said awhile was a lie?"_

_"It's not everything."_

_"Of course it's not. But it's still you."_

_"Why do you want to know?"_

_"Do you really want to hear the reason?"_

_Suddenly, the energy between them shifted. The expression in his face sent her belly diving._

_**Can't you see what you're doing to me, Misa?** _

_Emotion clogged her throat for a moment. "It's not possible. You can't."_

_"Why not?"_

_Cool fingers found his damp cheek, rested there a while. Bitterly, she chuckled. "You know why."_

_He shook his head. That wasn't an answer. He couldn't help her like that. "Tell me."_

_The ensuing silence was borne with patience. Usui waited, hyperaware of her bare skin pressed tightly against his, of her churning thoughts. In past few hours, he felt more awake, more alive in months. This woman smelled of mystery and sadness; she was strong, yes, but trapped by circumstances. This was pretty clear. The game ended in his mind a long time ago. He only wanted to know her, wanted that ever since he watched her cry in her sleep. It was a selfish idea. He wanted to know about her, wanted to unearth her secrets, hoping to draw her closer to him. He knew this plan would only bring him unwanted heartache. After all, wouldn't all this end with her leaving after fulfilling the deed? That plan lost its appeal to him during their frugal hours together. Definitely, he didn't want it all to end with just sex. It was as if her continuing presence in his life was suddenly necessity, and he knew her absence in the morning would wound him._

**_You're special. Can't you feel that, Misa?_**

_Her harsh breathing pulled him back. Chocolate eyes of uncertain depths searched his, and he could almost hear her: **I know what you want, but it's impossible. It's too fast. It's not right.**_

_When her mouth opened to verbalize the protest, he shook his head. "Nothing that came from the right place, the right intentions can ever be absolutely wrong."_

_The kiss he pulled her into was nothing like the previous ones. It was the kind of kiss you drowned in and clung to at the same time, as though she were the survivor, and him her life raft. It was the kind of kiss that inspired not only passion but tenderness as well, the kind that didn't just flip her belly or quicken her heart rate, but dumbfounded her, weakened her knees. And she understood what it meant, understood that whatever he wanted to say was truly something she could never accept, not with everything that is happening now._

_Understood that the yielding of her body meant reciprocation of those feelings._

_And because she understood, Misaki pulled away, lightheaded, almost gasping for air as she fought for coherence, for practicality, for the last tendrils of resistance. Yet he took her again, insistent, as though he knew what was in her mind, and the fleeting decision to back away was lost forever. Their arms were wound wildly around each other, naked bodies pressed so close it lost distinction, legs tangled under bathwater. His throbbing member was poised between her thighs, adding heat and friction, teasing her entrance._

_Usui trailed mad kisses down her neck, down to her chest, burying his face there. His mouth found one of her taut nipples, biting and sucking. He didn't stop, even as she clawed at the tense muscles of his back, not even as she gaspingly cried his name when his attentions shifted to the other neglected breast. With the strength only intense arousal can bring, he stood up, lifting her, and moved out of the tub, recovering quickly even as she wrapped her legs around his torso in a visegrip. Somehow, they reached the bed and he tumbled atop her, ravaging her with torn self-restraints. He nipped slowly, not so gently, down to her quivering belly, down to her dripping entrance, and covered those vertical lips with his entire mouth. He sank his tongue deep, tasting her addictive juices and aroma, and sucked, mesmerized by the vacuum his mouth and her muscles created. Vaguely, he could hear her screaming in ecstasy. Greedily, he grabbed her willowy hips, pulling her closer with each suck so that her back was arched onto the bed, as though she were weightless. When she came, her fingers drove into his scalp pushing him deeper to her, and he willingly drank her all up, hunger only teased yet unsated._

_Dazed and vibrating from the aftershocks, Misaki watched as he journeyed back up, like a deadly panther priming for the main course. His elbows trapped her head now, mimicking a certain position earlier in the evening. This time, his member, so very much alive was poised by her entrance, and her thighs were up and apart, so open, so inviting. Their eyes met, both unyielding, and this time, the passion and lust was equal._

**_The moment of waiting was over._**

* * *

"She didn't go to work again last night, did she?"

Without bothering even with a single glance, Honoka muttered noncomittantly. She was seated on his couch, legs curled under her, as she read a wearied copy of Murakami's _After Dark._ Not for the first time, Aoi was reminded of a very expensive and exquisite Siamese—sly, independent and all that—only this one was wearing nothing but his shirt on. He couldn't even remember her reason for coming to his loft. All he knew was this was the second time that the moment he opened the door, she had latched onto him. And the next moments were muddy with the aftermath showing them lying naked and spent, side by side on his wooden floor. Naturally, her next detour was the showers, which he joined—or rather was seduced into; round two was inevitable. Now she was in his living room, seemingly intent to spend the rest of her night-off reading a book, and acting as though it was the most natural thing in the world to just sit there and ignore him after being pulled into mind-boggling, mind-blowing sex.

_Honoka will be Honoka, _he sighed and placed the tray of freshly brewed green tea on the coffee table. He was on his second cup when the question niggling his mind popped unawares from his mouth.

"Misaki's been hard to reach," he continued.

This time, she answered by rolling her eyes. "In this day and age, she doesn't have a cellphone, not even an old model. _Of course_ she's out of reach."

He ignored her dry tone. "I know the number of her house. No one's picking up. And I've visited her—not even her sister's there."

A shrug. "Probably at the hospital then."

Aoi straightened. "Do you know where it is?"

This time, she did look at him. "And what makes you think we're chummy enough for her to tell me those things?"

"I'm just asking."

_What was going on? Why do I feel like I'm asking one wrong question after another?_ He shrugged the feeling off.

A page was turned noisily but her gaze remained steady, glassy even. "Why don't you ask your aunt? If there's anyone in the club, she's the one Misaki would probably confide on."

"I have. She doesn't know."

"So you decide to ask me?"

"What's your point?" He shot back, irritably.

"My point, my _dear_," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm, finally ended her pretence of reading by slamming the book shut. "Is that you shouldn't ask stupid, pointless questions."

With that, she took a cup of tea, now cool, and downed it hurriedly as though wiping some bad taste on her mouth. Her nonchalance after telling him off so rudely riled Aoi up.

"Okay, just what is wrong with you?" Aoi half-shouted, control visibly snapping.

"You're asking what's wrong with me?" she scoffed. "Why don't you answer that yourself."

"Last time I checked, I haven't suddenly acquired telepathy, Honoka," he growled. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, _I won't fucking know_."

She raised a delicate brow and sat back on the couch, discarding the book on the table.

"What am I to you?"

The question caught him off-guard. It left him gaping at her, mouth opening as senseless articulations spilled from his mouth. Then, he remembered – they've never talked about it, at all.

The expression on her face was Arctic cool. Which was why he was more than unprepared for the next onslaught.

"_Exactly_," she bristled. Honoka's brown eyes were burning, damp hair clinging to her cheeks in a way that seemed almost vulnerable. "You've claimed to have manned up but you can't even _name _what's going on between us. Last time I checked, I'm supposed to be your _girlfriend_ now. But since your boss so nicely interrupted us the other day, you've been nothing but distracted over Misaki. Everything's about her now. You've made no time to visit me at work—and don't you fucking lie. The past nights, you've been there only to ask your aunt about her, and I know because I've got eyes and ears."

"That's—"

"Shut the fuck up, I'm not done," she bared her teeth at him. "You've been trying to contact her, you've been visiting her home—well! Why the hell aren't you calling me? Why the hell aren't you visiting _me_? Last time I checked, we both have phones, and we both have each other's numbers saved up. So why the fuck don't you call or send a single mail? You know where I live, so why the fuck don't I see you at my doorstep? You leave me for three days, wondering where we are because you've been thinking of her."

"Honoka, Misaki's my best friend!"

The woman held up a single finger at him and he hushed immediately as though a command had been issued. She ranted on. "You leave me for three days—and I'm _forced_ to step up, to visit you here, yesterday and now today. We just had sex, twice. And the first thing you ask me is if that girl's been to work? That's the best thing you can think of asking me after three days of _nothing_?"

Her long tirade was met with silence. He could only stare at her daunting figure—hands elegantly gripping the arms of the couch as though bracing herself, her face furious and almost manic, still beautiful, always beautiful.

Something was blossoming inside his chest. The anger was there, yes, but it was slowly ebbing, slowly replaced by something else.

_Hope_.

"You never—I didn't think you were _jealous_ of her."

The word made her grimace. "And whatever made you think that?"

Abruptly, she stood up, grabbed her bag—and for a moment Aoi thought that she was preparing to leave. Instead, she procured a stash of cigarettes, lit one up and returned to her seat. They stared at each other, tension almost palpable between them.

"I'm—" he cleared his throat, took a breath, tried again. "I don't know what to think. Honestly. I was happy when you said that you're my girlfriend. But that morning, I _thought_ that you weren't serious at all. That you were making fun of me even."

"_What_?" She made to stand up, but Aoi got to her first. He half-kneeled in front of her, took the half-burnt stick and doused it on her near-empty teacup.

"Please," Grasping her resisting fingers, he continued. "Listen. I didn't know how you felt or thought. And I didn't know what to think about us. I didn't ask because I was afraid to hear your answer. You don't deserve that. I guess the thing with Misaki also distracted me from matters between us. But my feelings haven't changed, and it won't. I know I keep saying I've grown up, that I'm a man now—and I am. At least, I'm trying to be. I want to be the man that you deserve to be with and I'll work for it, Honoka, if you let me. So don't leave. Please."

He planted a kiss onto each of her nicotine-scented fingers. When she didn't pull away, he sighed inwardly in relief. Looking into her eyes, he realized that her fury was gone, replaced by the tenderness he seldom saw, the same tenderness she showed him before. He melted into her touch when her palm cupped his neck.

When she spoke, there was a catch in her voice, as though tears threatened to stifle her. "Well. I told you, didn't I? That you're too young for me. That this is impossible. I may be a whore but I'm no cradle snatcher. I want you to cherish your youth. You won't have that if you stay with me."

So this was it. For a moment, he realized that she had just unwittingly dropped the core of all her fears. _Was this why you refused me back then? Was this why you had to hurt me? _He shook his head and planted a kiss into her palm.

"The time I was away, I've thought long about it. I thought the distance would make me forget. I thought time would help me with that, too—don't tell me it was just two months because those felt like years. It didn't help. You kept haunting me. You keep driving me crazy. So I had to come back. And I'm choosing you, always. I'm not forcing myself to grow up. I want to. I know now—this youth that you speak of would be meaningless if I don't have you."

She laughed, and it came out light, tingly. "See? Those are the impassioned thoughts of a boy." Her eyes were soft and bright. "But I have grown to love the boy, and the man he has become."

At her words, happiness exploded in Aoi. He crushed her too him, and fervently showered her face with kisses. "You do. You love me. You do."

"Silly boy. And I guess that makes me a silly girl, too."

When they kissed, hope and all those buried feelings flew in his chest. Happier than he had ever been in days, he carried her off to bed and came to know her, as though it were their first time.

* * *

The client stood at the foot of the bed, drinking up the sight of the woman—no, the whore—gyrating wildly against her self-ministrations. Normally, he was no fan of vanilla sex, and yet he was undeniably hard now, just watching her. Usually, he preferred having Honoka, expert as she was in delivering his desires. But she had declined him for a week now, and referred him elsewhere.

_"__I've seen her work," the she-devil had drawled. At that time, she had been sitting in her own parlour seeing another client. The half-bald naked man was gagged and blindfolded, secured into an uncomfortable fetal position using hemp rope on the floor. Her slender feet were comfortable against his sagging belly, as though he were a dog—or a human foot stool. "Misa is good—hell, I taught her some of the moves myself. You could say she learned from the best."_

_He raked his fingers impatiently through his pale, bright hair. "I've no patience for newbies."_

_The belligerent smile Honoka gave her was almost taunting. "She could teach you a thing or two."_

_"__About what?" _

_"__Hmm," she murmured absently, tracing her bound client's jaw with her feet as he whimpered. "Manners, perhaps?"_

_He laughed coarsely at that. "You're one to talk. I can pay you more—twice than this poor bloke can if you push him aside." That earned a muffled protest from the gagged man, earning a sharp tap from Honoka's whip, silencing him._

_"__It's not about the money anymore," she said simply._

And that had been that. It's not that he had difficulty acquiring a woman. He was confident in his own looks and physique; more often than not, women were throwing themselves at him, both at work and even in leisure. But those women never satisfied him. He had certain desires that they could never fill. Especially when those women were afraid of pleasure derived from pain. Which Honoka was a master of, both as giver and recipient.

He had been too busy the past few weeks, and naturally, it has been too long for him since the last session. Impatient, he had taken up her suggestion, leading him here, finally. Of course, he didn't go here blindly. He read reviews and testimonies at the front desk—labelled inappropriately as The Love Diary—and they were very positive. He noted, however, that her services did not include anything hard-core.

Expanding her clientele, perhaps, he wondered. What made her so special?

He took her on. And was surprised by her reaction to the video cam he left in the room. So surprised that he was transfixed from the moment she smiled at him through the camera's eyes up to the time he forcedly tore himself from the screen to find her on the bed.

She had an angular face, not particularly beautiful but interesting rather. The blindfold hid her bright amber eyes, set upon a pair of high cheekbones, her nose slightly upturned, her mouth small and pink, partly open now as she breathed heavily through it. Her general frame was small, ribs apparent against small, firm breasts. Her unblemished, apparently smooth skin was drenched in sweat, and the erotic sound of her gasping coupled with the slick movements of her fingers against her very wet sex aroused him.

_I should be bored,_ he thought, fascinated, kneeling down, lightly cupping her calf, pressing her ankle to his lips. The slightest touch made her shudder. _But I'm not._

_Why is that?_

She was a whore, trained for seduction. But why is it that none of it seemed fake? Why is it that she dripped of need and want for intimacy?

She lifted her head in his direction, and he could almost swear that she was looking at him, seeing right through him. "Master."

Her voice, so full of ache, so full of need, triggered something primal in him. Without premeditation, he released his member from its restraints, grabbed her, bodily pulling her off the bed so that she arched, and he plunged into her deeply, so deeply that she screamed in both pain and ecstasy.

Needily, she reached blindly for his shoulders, and finding support, drew marks onto his back. Wantonly, the woman named Misa bit onto his neck, muffling her own cries. Rendered mad by her, he dragged at her hair, tongue meeting tongue in a battle for dominance. All the while he moved, in and out, and there was no room for gentleness—there was none to spare—but she seemed to want more anyways as her hips bucked each time to meet his. When he came with a shout, he didn't bother pulling out, not caring if he didn't have protection—surely, she was taking oral or injectable contraceptives anyways, and he was certainly clean. He felt her inner muscles clench around him as she followed.

Inelegantly, she fell onto the bed, perspiring and breathing heavily. The client stared down at her temporarily filled but not entirely sated. He observed his cum drain between her still parted legs. Slowly, Misa gathered herself on all fours, prostrating herself infront of him, her face—her mouth—so near his flaccid penis. As though she could sense him behind the blindfold.

"Master…" she murmured, licking tentatively, then engulfing him entirely into her warm, wet mouth, bringing him effectively back to life. He could only grab her bobbing head and shudder as her oral gratification brought shocks throughout his entire system.

_I want her. Now. Tomorrow again, the day after. _

With a growl, he tore back her head, flung her roughly into a prone position, and violently took her from behind. He silenced her protests with a yank to her hair, twisting her then biting onto her mouth.

"Mine, mine," he growled as he pummelled into her, revelling at the sensation of her coming. But he wouldn't stop. He couldn't.

He tore off the blindfold, saw her eyes widen, fear admixed with unwanted pleasure there. Her anal sphincter seemed to contract around his member, filling him with unbelievable pleasure. Saliva filled his mouth, and he smiled all teeth as he bit into her shoulder, drawing a sweet tang of blood.

The scream now was more pain and alarm but he gagged her with the bandana. She tried to clamp her legs shut, but he held her in place, hands gripped tightly above her head. He viciously fingered her clitoris, forcing her to another climax.

"Master," and yet she screamed, holding firmly to the roleplay. He sucked onto her breast, enjoying her violent quivers. Yes, she was getting better and better.

And he has just started.

Honoka was wrong. Misa didn't learn from the best—she just might easily be.

* * *

Two hours later, an exhausted Misaki turned on the shower, maximizing its heat, and slid down onto the floor, curling herself into a ball. It was over. The first client since her requested upgrade—and now she was a hundred thousand yen richer.

And also, she thought with a wince as she stretched her tired legs. Several times more injured and battered than on a regular day. Surely, there would be marks of rough handling blossoming on her skin now—how would she be able to hide it all?

_How did Honoka do this? How did she survive this?_

Misaki could still feel his hands on her—and she felt violated. Most of all she was filled with self-disgust at enjoying the show she created.

_I had to do it. I wouldn't have lasted. I couldn't have stomached it._

Suddenly, she felt ill and doubled over on the floor, scalding water raining over her back as she emptied the contents of her stomach—sticky white combined with bile—and hurled again at the memory of that man who forced her to drink his cum in all three performed blowjobs.

_Monster. Machine. He could never seem to stop. His libido isn't even logical anymore._

Misaki could only laugh hysterically now. It wasn't the end, she knew. And he would get more violent in the next visits, this she was sure of. What did he tell her right before she passed out on the bed?

By the end of it, the blindfold had been discarded. This man had blonde hair—but the eyes were wrong. They were light brown, almost yellow, and it was cruel. And his voice was cold as he murmured into her ear.

_"__Tora Igarashi. Remember the name of your new master. You. Are. Mine."_

The memory shook her again, and she folded herself onto the floor, uncaring if the water burned or drowned her. The lump on her throat refused to go away. She wanted this to end. She wanted it all to stop, to go away. But she knew there was no other way—she needed quick cash. And this was the only way she knew.

_Be my maid instead._

"It's not that simple," she whispered to no one. Tired beyond comprehension, she closed her eyes and stayed there for a while.

* * *

Air deprivation.

Hands reaching out.

Fingers against her windpipe, choking her.

Plunging into her backside, reverse defecation.

Mad eyes, yellow eyes.

She couldn't scream.

"NO!" she gasped, breaking out of REM-state, and panicking at the paralysis. Something—someone—lifted her, held her to his chest.

His chest. Not a woman's. She was still wet but she wasn't naked anymore. Unknowingly, she relaxed against the solid form. The way he held her, the way her head seemed to fit exactly into the crook of his neck was familiar. She had been there. Even without many months of replaying his touch in her head, it was impossible to forget it, to forget him.

She had denied him, to his face and to herself so many times, but it was impossible to deny him for much longer, especially now.

Finally, finally, she allowed herself to relax. And for the first time, in a long time, she sobbed all her hurts, her fears, her loneliness, her guilt.

He rocked her, cooing soothingly as a mother would a child. He didn't say a word, didn't tell her it would all be all right. And with just that, Misaki knew that she would be.

She pulled away, still snivelling, to get a good look at him under the guidance of the bedside fluorescent lamp. Golden hair, a thin line of mouth, and those mesmerizing green eyes, so much more turbulent than it usually was. There was a crease between his brows, so unbecoming—she lifted a shaky thumb to flatten it but it refused to go away, as though he had gotten older overnight.

"Usui," she murmured at last. "How did you find me? Were you...Did—did you find me at the—at the…?"

With unbroken eye contact, he nodded his head slowly. Misaki hung her head in response, understanding now that she was responsible for his expression tonight.

Gulping the down the ball at her throat, her voice cracked. "I'm—I'm sorry."

Those green eyes were burning into her, his body suddenly rigid. Abruptly, Usui stood up, walking towards the window, back ramrod-straight and tense. Anger was an understatement, she knew. He was furious.

"I—want to touch you, so much, right now," he said softly. "But I'll hurt you. Then I'm going to kill that fucking bastard who did this to you."

With shaky legs, she padded towards him, "Well. I can't bail you if you go to jail."

"That won't stop me."

Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her damp cheek onto his back. "I will stop you."

"Don't."

"Please," she whispered. "I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

She felt him slacken in her arms. Usui turned to face her and pressed his lips against her forehead in a chaste lingering kiss before guiding her back to bed. As they lay down side by side and facing each other, he wondered about the uncertainties of the future, and the meddling of elusive destinies. And understood, as he watched her sleep fitfully, that right now, being with her was the only certainty he wanted in his future.

* * *

**I know. Should I have warned you? It's a bit violent, I know. But that's the way it is. You would not believe the research I had to do with this. Hahah.**

**A review would be wonderful. :) Thank you**!


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